The Dirty Deal
by Igrayne01
Summary: A young widow turns to bounty hunting to fill the void of her old life and crosses paths with the bounty hunters Boba Fett and Dengar, who are more interested in her husband's old deals than her competition. COMPLETE.
1. The Meeting at Chalmun's Cantina

Chalmun's cantina was buzzing with activity. Fig'rin Dan and the Modal Nodes assumed their usual position in the overcrowded alcoves of the joint to play jizz-wailer music, to which many of the sentients were dancing. The atmosphere was one of genuine festivity. Even the barman, Wuhrer, looked to be in a particularly good mood.

Nomi Rhendel hated the look of the place. It smelled like drink and sweat, and she liked neither. She followed her husband, Gharon, around a long line of tables to sit in an unoccupied booth, where he pulled shut a veil that would give them some privacy. Nomi had insisted that she accompany him on his present business deal, though he largely objected to it. But then, Nomi had insisted on many things of which he did not approve since marrying him.

She reflected on the past few years of their marriage. While not unpleasant, they had left much to be desired. Her all-too-convenient marriage to Gharon had been arranged under Ndeki custom, and Nomi, only a young girl at the time, had acted obligingly on her father's orders. Ndeki was a small, backwater planet in the Outer Rim that seemed the furthest from the galaxy's core. News traveled slowly there, so Nomi took what opportunities she could to accompany Gharon on whatever trips he had planned, even if they meant that a certain amount of danger was involved.

Gharon had warned her that the bar's occupants would be unlike the royals she was used to dealing with on a day-to-day basis. As much as she hated to admit it, Gharon had been right. She felt strangely out of place in a room full of aliens all staring at her amid the mottled sandstone walls of the cantina. She had accompanied Gharon to many seedy places before, but this was, by far, the seediest of them all.

"Now what?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably in her encumbering royal cloak. Her maid had insisted she wear the thing, though she would like to have tossed it to the winds the first chance she got. Gharon eyed her tiredly.

"We wait. I've sent ahead word to Bawd McKnives that we are to meet here."

He stole a glance at his timepiece.

"We're rather early. Is there anything that you would like to drink?"

Gharon was never a demonstrative man, but tonight he seemed unusually solicitous. Nomi supposed it had something to do with keeping up appearances for his clients.

She shook her head, sending her tousled curls into disarray.

"No, thank you."

She parted the veil to gaze into the revelry ensuing outside. A large, ridiculous-looking Devaronian was sleazing his way around the bar, attracting a flock of vapid humanoid females. Two Rodians sat at a makeshift gambling table, dealing a hand of sabacc. But further beyond that, in the corner, a masked figure stood silently against the wall, his helmeted gaze extending far beyond the denizens, directly into their private booth.

"Who is _that_ one?" Nomi asked in wide-eyed wonderment. Gharon hissed his disapproval.

"Him?" He leaned across to see what she was seeing. "That is Boba Fett."

"_The_ Boba Fett?"

Even in remoter worlds than Ndeki Fett's name was widely known. Fett, while something of a celebrity, stood aloof from the rest of the bar's patrons and occupants. Nomi innocently wondered why a celebrity like Fett wouldn't go and try to mingle with his admirers, if he had any. But Fett merely assumed the look of a casual observer, doing his best to blend into his surroundings. If it weren't for her observation, she would never have detected him there.

"A barve like that's dangerous. He doesn't have a lick of conscience. I don't get mixed up with his kind."

"Whose kind _do_ you get mixed up with, then?" she asked, peering over her shoulder. His scowl immediately softened into a sickening-sweet smile. She knew she had asked the wrong question when he extended a hand to stroke back a stray hair from her eyes.

"That isn't something I wish to divulge." He surveyed her warily. "Don't ever ask me my business again. Is that understood?"

Her eyes meekly held the ground.

"Yes," she said in accordance. Gharon gave a firm nod of approval, obviously pleased with her response. As he leaned back, he swung one leg up on the seat beside her, trying his best to blend in with the casual atmosphere of the place. Despite their best efforts, they still looked like nothing more than Ndeki royalty.

"If you don't know anything, then you can't tell anything," he added to assuage the fear she wore so plainly on her face.

"You think I'm going to betray you to a band of mercenaries for a credit or two?" Nomi quipped, though the joke was lost on Gharon.

"Other women have done it for much less. I can assure you," he said, as the drink he ordered arrived. He took one sip of the concoction, let the honeyed taste ease down his throat, then thrust it aside. "This way, I figure, nobody can tap you for an information source."

If Gharon had had his way, Nomi would never have been a factor in any of his business deals. Not that his particular line of work interested her at all; rather, it was the exposure to other planets and races that made the jaunts more exciting. She supposed it was stupid of her to volunteer to go along with him, especially with the precarious position the galaxy was now in with the feud between the Empire and the Rebel Alliance beginning to heat up.

Gharon had never taken sides. He said that he knew where his bread was buttered best, and that was somewhere outside of political matters. While rather ironic, given that they were both Ndeki nobility, Nomi thought it was good of him to keep his nose where it belonged. In times like this, there was no telling which way things would turn, and at the moment, it seemed the Rebellion was out of control.

Her reverie was momentarily interrupted by the arrival of another in the bar. Nomi perked her head up immediately, scanning the crowd.

"Is that him?" she asked.

"No," Gharon said with a tinge of irritation in his voice. "That's another hunter. I believe he goes by the name of Dengar."

The man called Dengar had the same no-good look about him as most of Gharon's other clients, which was why she mistook him for their guest. When he had passed clearly out of her sights, Nomi turned back to Gharon with a look of utter boredom.

"You're not enjoying yourself?" he asked.

She gave an impatient shrug of the shoulders.

"Tatooine's nothing special."

He chuckled good-naturedly.  
"It was you who insisted on accompanying me. You have only yourself to blame."

"And I freely accept it," Nomi said. "I can't stand the sand and all the hot sun."

Gharon reached across the table and held her hand.

"And there's plenty of it to be had here." His declaration did nothing to cheer her. "That's because you're used to the rolling green hills of Ndeki. You hadn't even been offworld until I met you."

She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a smarmy-looking human. The man Gharon addressed as Bawd McKnives took a seat directly beside Nomi, causing her to back away several paces to avoid the scent of sweat tickling her nostrils. His black hair was messed all around his head, and he sported a number of scars and bruises from some former fight. Gharon shook his hand and adjusted his cape around his shoulders.

"Bawd," he said roughly in greeting, inclining his head. "Finally we meet face-to-face."

Bawd grunted a reply and ordered a drink from the bar.

"Who's she?" he asked, inclining his head toward Nomi. He seemed to neither know nor care of her royal status, otherwise he would have treated her accordingly. As it was, all she received from him was a cold look and shifty eyes.

"This is my wife, Nomi," Gharon introduced her, "She wanted to accompany me to Tatooine to see some of the sights."

The other man's behavior seemed to change accordingly when he looked at her again. He stood a little straighter instead of slouching, and he ran a hand through his hair to tame it.

"Miss."

Nomi smiled in reply, but said nothing. She allowed Gharon to do the talking for both of them.

"You have the datapad?" Gharon asked. Bawd McKnives fished around in his pockets for something he soon deposited into Gharon's waiting hands. Gharon wasted no time in pocketing it so it seemed as though an exchange had never taken place. The bar was busy, and probably full with informants all willing to sell information about their little deal to interested sources.

Nomi looked to the wall, pretending she hadn't noticed. Usually, playing dumb helped in these kind of circumstances, and if playing dumb was what Gharon needed to stay alive, then she was happy to oblige him in this situation.

"It's got the info all encrypted," McKnives said.

"Good. I've already wired a bank transfer to your account."

"The full amount?" McKnives queried.

"Yes. The amount we agreed on," Gharon said pointedly. He seemed to gaze at McKnives for a little longer than was necessary. After a while, McKnives slapped the table and got up, excusing himself from their company.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Rhendel."

"And you. I hope that this alliance will continue to prove lucrative in the future."

As McKnives sauntered away, Nomi raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"That was it? There was scarcely a word to be said."

"It was a business venture, Nomi, not a social gathering," Gharon said sharply. "What did you expect?"

"A little more," Nomi said truthfully. "You know, I thought there would be some kind of a briefing or whatever."

"We handled all the details beforehand. I couldn't risk being overheard by other sources. This was only the conclusion of our deal."

She nodded and made to get up when she saw Gharon rise in a similar manner. He extended his arm to her which she grasped tightly, more for comfort than for real affection. Having Gharon beside her in such a seedy cantina as this made her feel secure. Not many things in this galaxy did.

They walked outside, arm-in-arm, headed for the transport that would take them back to Bestine and to their awaiting shuttle. Gharon had warned her they wouldn't have much time to spare on Tatooine; not that it much mattered now that she saw what a dump of a planet it was. She hadn't thought it physically possible for any other planet to be worse than Ndeki, but this was living proof of it.

"Come on, Nomi," Gharon said, escorting her into the waiting transport. But before he could enter the passenger vehicle, a voice called out sharply to him.

"Hey, Rhendel!"

Gharon turned to see a shadowy figure stalking across the sands toward him at breakneck speed. Gharon, surprised, was the first to throw a punch. Nomi gasped as the man took him with an uppercut to the chin, causing him to double over in pain. She rushed out of the transport but Gharon shoved her aside so that she fell into the sands. It was a struggle just trying to keep the winds from flapping her cape ridiculously around her head. Meanwhile, Gharon was having his own struggle.

His lip was cut badly and bleeding, but Gharon delivered one well-placed kick into the man's stomach. He absorbed most of the blow well, but produced a small vibro-ax, swiping at Gharon's face. The first blow caught him so that he fell, face-first, into the sands. Nomi's screams were drowned out by the roar of the transport's engines.

She cried out for him to stop, but he would not yield to her pleas. Over and over again, he beat Gharon, until his face was barely recognizable.

"Please," she whispered in between sobs, "Please stop. Whatever it is you want."

The man, alerted to her presence for the first time, took the vibro-ax out of the stiff, lifeless corpse of Gharon and turned toward her. Nomi screamed a few times, trying to crawl her way away from him, though she only succeeded in cornering herself into a black alleyway.

The man rounded the corner and caught hold of her, ripping her cloak clean off. She tried fighting with him, but it was no use; he held her rooted to the ground with an iron grip. Even his eyes beamed with malicious intent.

"Stop!" she screamed, to no avail. The music inside the cantina was too loud for anyone to have heard.

He went and flipped her over onto her back, determined to shut her up. But all he found was resistance...

After what seemed like hours, the man moved away, leaving Nomi to draw on her torn dress with trembling hands. He receded into the shadows as surreptitiously as he had first arrived, taking with him her wounded pride. She felt like some part of her was broken.

She stood up, the man still in her sights. She furiously kicked up sand at his retreating form, causing him to pause in his tracks and turn around. The look on his face was one of genuine amusement. As he advanced on her again, she waited for him to get close enough, then remembered what Gharon had taught her.

In an instant, she had unsheathed his own vibro-ax and sliced clean across his neck. The man, surprise evident in his face, fell backward on himself.

She knew her lip was busted when she reached her tongue out and felt the swelling. And Gharon…she had forgotten Gharon.

Sobbing, she went over to the fallen man's side and gazed into his wide-open eyes. She let her head rest on his chest momentarily, feeling her own chest begin to heave as she was racked with more tears. She stayed like this for some time until a pilot called for help and an emergency transport came to move Gharon's body away. Even after she was escorted back to her own shuttle, presumably to make the trip home, Nomi felt numb to everything that had just happened.

She had felt justified in killing her husband's murderer—but it also sparked another feeling within her, one that she had never thought possible: excitement. She had never received such a thrill as when she pulled the ax to the man's throat to watch him twist and writhe in pain just as she had. She doubted very highly that these were feelings born of one futile moment in which she struggled and lost. Rather, they were the cumulation of years and years of seclusion. All the anger she had ever felt had filtered into that one kill, making it so much more satisfying for her.

And now…with Gharon dead…there was nothing for her to return to in Ndeki, short of a few servants and a title to which she could ascribe very little power or prestige. She still held the vibro-ax in one hand, caressing it almost lovingly, as if it were a child and not a tool of destruction. Her thoughts began racing. Killing was the only religion she could trust. It had evened the odds a great deal, given her power beyond any she'd ever known. She knew one step was all it took to leave her old life behind.

And with Gharon dead, none of that mattered. She was free of all duty, all obligation.

She sat in the starport terminal, gazing at the floor, unaware that she was being watched.

Fett set his helmeted gaze upon the young woman sitting clear in his line of view. His information had shown nothing of importance – her age, 25, her rank and relation to the now late Gharon Rhendel. Which was precisely what he wanted her for. The young female human had been seen accompanying Rhendel on several business deals, so she obviously knew some of what he was up to.

Gharon was worth more alive than dead, as the bounty had so expressly stated. Fett doubted that bringing in Gharon's corpse wouldn't procure a fair share of credits, however, so he had bartered mercilessly for the corpse to be delivered to him to the landing pad where Slave 1 was docked.

In the shadows, he waited, and watched. When the time was right, he would get what information he needed out of her as to Gharon's dirty dealings. But for now, he had another bounty to pursue. And besides, the female was of no use to him if she wasn't even coherent. He had enough of a lead to know that she knew more than she let on, but other bounty hunters would probably not be able to see that. The one who posted the bounty on Gharon had given very specific orders for him to be delivered alive because he wanted to pump him for information.

"She talking?" a rather loud voice said behind him.

"See for yourself," Fett's otherwise emotionless voice droned. Dengar thought once or twice he heard a tinge of irritation in the tone, but he dismissed it due to the high levels of alcohol he had consumed that night.

Dengar had one hand on his holster.

"You still think she'll be worth anything. She's not much use if she don't know what's been going down with old Rhendel."

Fett turned his t-shaped visor in Dengar's direction, momentarily shutting him up.

"If we are to pursue this partnership, it would function a lot better if you didn't ask questions and kept your postulations to yourself."

Dengar furrowed his brow at the comment, but let it slide off his back.

"I don't like taking on partners. I don't intend on making it a habit," Fett added. He had always been an independent operator, who regarded partners as a liability in his dangerous line of business. And besides, partners had never given him anything that he couldn't already get himself, short of a headache.

"But you need me for this one, Fett," Dengar said, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Fett said nothing, only watched as the young widow of Rhendel had a porter carry her luggage to the waiting transport, watched as it lifted off and she disappeared from their view.

Perhaps this woman would one day prove useful.


	2. Abduction

_Three Months Later._

Nomi Rhendel sat under the black light of Jabba's Palace, nursing a drink while feigning interest in Max Rebo's performing band. Her thoughts were punctuated by a cacophony of music from time to time, though she largely tried to ignore all the goings-on in the palace unless the Hutt demanded her attention. She had learned to be quick on her feet while serving in Jabba's employ, otherwise he would dispense with her with the same sort of casualty as one of his dancers. Like, Oola, the unfortunate dancing girl who got fed to the Rancor after refusing Jabba's advances. What a travesty _that_ had been. Both dancers and hunters alike stood a little more alert nowadays, keeping careful watch of where they stepped in case it wasn't someplace Jabba approved of…

The end of the song was followed by a short round of applause from several of the palace's denizens. Nomi took a long sip of the drink, grimacing as the taste hit her full force. It was an insidious-looking mixture meant for creatures with stronger stomachs, but she braved the worst of it just to keep up appearances.

In her hands she held a small datapad, the product of Gharon's rendezvous with Bawd McKnives three months prior. Just before being escorted away on a transport, the medical examiner had offered her one last look at her husband's personal effects. She hid the datapad in a few articles of clothing so that it would appear nothing was notably absent.

She had spent months poring over the datapad, though her search produced no results. It was encrypted and would need decoding by one who knew how; unfortunately, Nomi had neither the time nor the patience to devote to the unlocking of its secrets. What could Gharon have hidden in here that was so important as to get him killed?

She missed Gharon terribly. While he lived, she had never thought it possible to feel such affection for him, but now that he was dead she found her lonely, unoccupied nights almost miserable. She missed the warmth of him in their bed at night, if for nothing else but comfort. That was partially why she had taken to bounty hunting—to fill the void of loneliness that haunted her daily. The other reason was more difficult. In her sheltered life on Ndeki, she had been a carefree and happy child. That had all changed the moment Gharon was murdered before her eyes and his assailant forced himself upon her. Memories of the rape had haunted her, no matter how hard she tried to put it from her mind. She had spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning in the small apartment she occupied on the base level of Jabba's Palace. Normally, these quarters were reserved for Jabba's favorites, but Nomi was good at delivering her merchandise, and Jabba saw fit to reward her for it.

No reward could make up for the horrors of that night. It was in her every waking thought and memory—no matter how loud the strains of the band were, or the noise level in the palace, she could see the scene before her in full sensory detail. First came the fear, then submission, and finally anger. The anger had shaken her to the core. She never knew she could possess so much anger until she had killed that man. She could still smell him, feel his sickening touch on her, inside of her. These were wounds that no amount of time could ever heal.

So she had started taking jobs. Low-paying ones, at first, until she had worked up enough of a reputation to demand more than a flat fee. While she was still largely unknown, she had earned herself a respectable clientele whose needs she expertly met. It all worked out perfectly to her liking, but none of it erased the memory of what had happened to her.

Nomi turned over the datapad, taking another sip of her drink. Three months and still no leads. She wondered how much some clients would be willing to pay for the secrets it held, or if anybody was even still searching for it. She would have to hold on a little longer, tap her information sources and find out what she could about it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cold shadow slinking over her.

"What do you wa—" She paused a moment, shock registering on her face when she saw whom she was addressing. Before her stood the helmeted bounty hunter Boba Fett, his blaster propped up over one shoulder, comfortable but accessible.

"A word alone." The cold clipped words possessed no emotion whatsoever, which was what she would expect from one such as Fett.

Seeing Fett in these was not unexpected, but they had never run in the same circuit. He was the personal champion and virtual poster boy for bounty hunting, while she was still the no-name low man on the totem pole. He was what she, in every way, aspired to: greatness beyond measure.

Dengar was also at his side. He adopted a more imposing stance by crossing both arms over his chest, making him seem meatier than before. Nomi remembered how Gharon had warned her against getting involved with barves like this, and she suddenly understood why.

She was hesitant to agree to talk to either of these bounty hunters, given the fact that they were tough competitors, but they _had_ approached her. Custom dictated that she at least give them an audience.

She sat with one leg propped up on the opposite chair, aping what she had seen Gharon do.

"I'm listening."

"Not here," Fett said. "Too crowded."

His proposition was nothing short of suspicious. Nomi was reluctant to follow any more strange men into dark alleyways given what had happened to her the last time. But somehow, she suspected Fett wasn't the kind of man who was accustomed to seducing women to get what he wanted. He usually achieved his goals by aiming a blaster at a sentient's head.

Fett jerked his head in the direction of one of the off-shooting corridors that ran through the palace, Dengar following close at heel. Nomi followed the both of them out of the main audience chamber into a small, smelly alcove.

"And to what do I owe this dubious pleasure, Fett?" she asked, trying to sound tough.

"Spare me the pleasantries," Fett said coldly. "And tell me what I want to know."

"Which is?" Nomi queried.

Dengar produced a small holo-readout of the news net, where several announcements had been posted. His face was scarred and malicious-looking, though she had once heard a story that painted Dengar in a completely different light: as the lover of an alien woman named Manaroo, with whom he had carried on a decades-long torrid affair. Nomi had difficulty believing this was the same man from the stories who stood before her so stoically.

"A man named Juri Loboh has sent out an inquiry on a datapad last associated with your late husband, Gharon Rhendel."

Nomi shifted uncomfortably at the mere mention of her husband's name. The fact that they had so much dirt on her was unnerving, to say the least.

Boba Fett proceeded where Dengar had left off.

"If found, this datapad could have certain serious implications for a high-ranking official that would be scandalous."

"That so?" Nomi asked, trying to portray an aura of calm though inwardly, her interest was piqued. "What does that have to do with _me_?"

Fett seemed to sense that she was bluffing

For a long, ponderous moment, Fett seemed to actually consider what she was saying.

"It was not among the items I scavenged from his personal effects."

"You robbed him?" she asked, slack-jawed. He blatantly ignored the question, which made her incensed. Nomi was used to being treated with dignity, a privilege she had reluctantly given up when she first turned to bounty hunting. Fett, in particular, seemed determined to rid her of any and all assurances that she was worth the consideration.

"I have good reason to think you are in possession of the stolen datapad," Fett said.

"Me?"

His finger cut off whatever innocent response she was going to supply him with.

"Don't play games with me. Don't undermine my intelligence."

Was that irritation she heard in his voice, or had it just been her imagination? He trained his blaster on her in response, affirming her suspicions.

"You have three minutes to tell me the precise whereabouts of the datapad. I suggest you start talking."

She swallowed hard to clear the blockage that had formed in her throat. She had heard of Fett using…_persuasive measures_…before on other unlucky sentients, though the stories had come to her secondhand since none had lived to tell about it themselves. She decided it would be in her best interest to tell him what he wanted to know—all in due time. If there was anything that bounty hunting had taught her in the past three months, it was that she held all the cards.

Staring down the barrel of Fett's blaster was beginning to intimidate her, but she didn't cave.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

To her surprise, he did not pull the trigger. She tried to keep as straight a face as possible. Dengar turned to look at Fett.

"I told you she'd be difficult!"

Fett acknowledged this statement with a simple nod of the head, a gesture that chilled her to the bone.

"It doesn't matter. She will come around."

Dengar took hold of her arm, and despite her struggling, pinned her against the wall long enough to bind her hands. Her screams were muffled against the sandstone of the palace. She took one blow to the face that knocked her out cold, and when she next awoke, it was in the cold, sterile holding cell of a ship.

She felt the motors buck and grind beneath her, and glanced around at her surroundings. There was a good deal of cargo stored back here, but the cell itself was tiny, with only a makeshift bed and simple blanket as its ornamentation. Nomi fell back onto the bed. Her head was still spinning from the blow she'd taken, and she knew she must have been sporting a nasty bruise.

She was alerted to the presence of another climbing the metal stairwell down into the belly of the ship. When she looked up, she recognized the white and silver armor encasing of Dengar. He had something in his hands that looked like a bowl with steaming hot mush.

He kicked open the cell and slid in the food. Nomi went up to the bars, gripping them tightly with a look of pure hatred on her face.

"You hit me."

Dengar rolled his shoulders in a casual shrug.

"I did what I had to do to shut you up."

"It wasn't exactly chivalrous of you," Nomi stated, obviously affronted by Dengar's careless treatment of her.

"Lady, you want chivalry, you go track down some rich nobleman. I thought you were a bounty hunter."

"I _am_ a bounty hunter!" she stated desperately. His mouth curled upward in a callous grin.

"Then deal with it."

"Wherever you're taking me, it's not worth it. I don't know anything."

"Our pilot seems to think otherwise."

Pilot? So this was the legendary Slave 1, the KDY-class ship of Boba Fett? She had somehow expected the holding cell to be more…accommodating. He had credits enough to spare, though he certainly didn't see fit to spend them on useless improvements to an otherwise well-functioning vessel.

"Well you can tell that slimewad that I know nothing! And even if I did I wouldn't say anything," she added cryptically. Dengar pointed over his shoulder.

"No need. You just told him yourself."

How stupid of her. She should have realized that whatever the ship lacked in amenities, it made up for in technological advancements. Fett had outfitted the ship with superior firearms and a first-rate intercom system, so he could perhaps eavesdrop on his merchandise, in case they spilled any secrets. She supposed it also functioned as a go-between for pilot and quarry, in case he had something important to announce to the merchandise he was bringing in.

"I don't get it. I'm not a spy. I'm not a criminal," Nomi said in irritation. Dengar said nothing as he crawled back up the steel-plated ladder into the cockpit.

"I shall determine that soon enough," the cold voice of Boba Fett intoned over the intercom system.

Nomi hugged both arms about herself, cornered in her cell. She decided to close her eyes and sleep before they reached wherever it was they were headed…she would certainly need her strength when it came time for her to face Fett again. And this time, she couldn't answer his questions with a mere denial of the truth. She would have to find more creative answers to keep him occupied long enough until she could crack the code on the encrypted datapad.


	3. Bartering with Lies

After a few hours of sleep, Nomi woke and searched her pockets for the datapad, which had haunted her thoughts and fragmented dreams. She hadn't even thought to check for it while onboard the Slave 1. She supposed Fett could have just swiped it from her the moment she was knocked out, but she had taken a preventative measure by putting a cloaking device on the info to pass it off as just another useless item. She was surprised Fett hadn't been more thorough in whatever search he had most likely conducted on her.

She dug her hand into her pocket. Satisfied that the datapad was still there, she carefully removed it and shot a look at the security cam mounted overhead, to be sure Fett hadn't seen. It was angled in the opposite direction, for the moment. Every so often, it made a scan of the cargo hold and holding cell, buzzing calmly back and forth.

She rubbed her head, forgetting for a moment the bounty she had taken while back on Tatooine. She supposed none of that mattered now in her current predicament, but there was nothing she hated more than an angry customer. It would only blacken her reputation, which she prized very highly. Especially in this business.

She was trying to remember the details of the job and thought that, perhaps, if there was some way to com the customer, she could have things resolved quickly. The sound of feet on the metal ladder momentarily interrupted her thoughts. For the first time, she realized the Slave 1's motors had been shut off. The teetering feeling was the ship drifting aimlessly in miles and miles of black space.

She climbed into bed as Fett emerged from the light of the hatchway, making it appear as if she had just woken up.

"Don't exert yourself on my account. I _know_ you're awake."

She silently cursed her luck, hoping she could have avoided this little meeting with Fett for longer. She had hoped one look at her sleeping form would cause him to turn tail and run back to the cockpit, where Dengar had taken the controls. But even if that had been the case, Fett would, no doubt, wake her with a kick to the cage or worse.

She sat up and pushed aside the blanket, exposing her shivering form to the cool air circulating through the ship. She was painfully aware of just how little her black top and pants left to the imagination, though she knew Fett wouldn't care either way.

"You got me," she said guiltlessly. "Now what do you want?"

"To talk. Peaceably."

She frowned with distaste.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Play mind games with me. You're trying to manipulate me."

"You are in no position to make demands," Fett said coldly.

"If you kill me now, it will all be in vain," she protested, clamping both hands around the cold iron bars.

"That is a risk I am willing to take. A minor impedance."

So, her life was a minor impedance? She supposed that was how Fett viewed all life forms.

"But…then you would have done it already. Why keep me alive this long if it would have better served your purposes to kill me?"

Fett's helmeted gaze nodded slowly in her direction.

"You are learning. Unfortunately, I don't have the time needed to devote to explaining my methods."

To her surprise, Fett holstered his blaster. Nomi shrugged the tattered blanket a little tighter around her shoulders to keep the cold from seeping into her bones. It was as if the belly of the ship seemed to conduct all of the chilliness of space into its metal corridors.

The tip of his boot kicked the untouched food bowl a little closer.

"Eat. I want my merchandise in prime condition."

"Prime condition for what?"

Fett shrugged casually, one hand resting on his blaster.

"My methods have not been persuasive enough, perhaps, but Juri Loboh is one whom I am sure will not think twice about shooting you down for stolen goods. I don't know how you are concealing them from me, but I'll find out soon enough."

Nomi shook her head.

"You're not taking me to him."

"I've already arranged for a trade. There's a fair amount of credits wrapped up in this deal, so I suggest you listen closely to everything I say," Fett explained. "If things go according to plan, you may even live to tell of our little encounter. That is if I don't kill you first.

Fett's gaze seemed to bore right into her soul. That was one promise she knew he was capable of making good on. Nomi decided to weigh her options—it was either barter with Fett, who could be bought for a credit or two, or deal with Juri Loboh, a man almost as notorious for his intolerance as Jabba the Hutt was for his hard living.

"I don't think so. Letting you out of this cell would accomplish nothing."

"It's a small ship," Nomi said. "I don't have anywhere to run."

Fett angled his gaze directly toward her, though she could not see his eyes.

"I'm not risking anything with you. Bounty hunters are crafty. And I've never profited from trusting the word of another sentient. It's kept me alive this long."

Much good it's done you, Nomi thought bitterly. Fett was so unlike her late husband Gharon. So cold, clean, methodical. She wondered if he was even human under all that armor, or if it was just a droid masquerading as the most infamous bounty hunter in the galaxy. That revelation wouldn't surprise her.

"I can offer you twice what Loboh's giving you. My husband left me more than enough in insurance money."

She knew it was a futile lie that Fett would see right through. She felt stupid for saying it the minute the words left her mouth. She was almost destitute when Gharon had died, so bounty hunting had provided her a few extra credits to keep her off the streets at night.

"I can't be bought so easily," Fett informed her, "though your offer is tempting, and I am willing to listen to a business deal that's worth my while. However, I do know that you don't have the credits to back those words up."

He approached the cage closer, more menacing.

"Don't think that any amount of persuasion can change your fate. I've cut our engines; Loboh's already on his way."

Nomi knew she would have to think quickly before she became just another victim of unfortunate circumstances. She couldn't tell Loboh anything more about the datapad than it had belonged to her late husband. Until she had the information she needed, her life was meaningless. He would dispense with her unless she had a bargaining chip to work with. Having Fett intruding on the time she would have otherwise been spending poring over the files was most inconvenient.

"Well, then," she said. "Unfortunate for you."

"We'll see," Fett said before leaving. She was grateful to hear his footsteps treading up the stairwell and into the distance. Fett's mechanical nature was beginning to really grate on her nerves.

Her happiness was short-lived, however, as more footsteps ambled down in the direction she had just saw Fett leave. Not surprisingly, it was Dengar this time. In his hands he held a tray of something, though she hadn't even eaten her last meal.

He sneered as he opened the tiny cage and shoved in a platter of fruit.

"Dinner."

"I can hardly wait!" Nomi exclaimed in mock-enthusiasm.

The fruit was a few days stale, but she ate it up hungrily, knowing it would be the last she'd see before they were at their rendezvous point. She took a few bites and shoved it aside, then geared up for the meeting with Loboh.

"I'm done."

Dengar's gaze turned briefly toward her.

"Eat more. You will starve," he ordered, noting how thin her frame was. It wasn't like she hadn't already noticed herself, as she gaped once into a 'fresher mirror and saw the barely recognizable image stare back. But the food he had to offer her was nothing substantial, and she'd decided for herself she was just as well off without it.

"Do you care?"

He was silent for some time as he worked the controls. He thought a minute before replying,

"No. Do what you want. But if I was you, I'd want to be on the good side of our pilot up there."

Nomi wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Does he even have a good side?"

Dengar snorted at the attempted joke.

"When he gets paid, yeah."

"Get up here," Fett barked over the intercom, prompting Dengar to forget their little chat and dash up the ladder twice as quickly as he had descended it.

From the cockpit, Fett flipped on a switch to the comlink to announce Loboh's arrival. He had pulled his ship up alongside Slave 1 and locked on so that their transfer hatchways had an equal distance between them. Nomi heard the footsteps coming down the long transfer hatchway and prayed that it would be over before it began.


	4. Fett's Trade

Loboh entered the ship's dingy quarters without the entourage he'd arrived with. Nomi was a little disappointed. He was not as imposing as she'd expected. He stood a full two heads shorter than Fett, but still managed to command the attention of everyone in the ship effortlessly. Nomi was a little afraid her chances at survival had run out, though her chances with Fett wouldn't have been much better.

"You're looking well, Fett," he said in greeting, "I'm surprised you're still alive after all these years."

"Let's skip the pleasantries and get right down to business," Fett said, "I have what you want and you are going to pay me the sum I've detailed."

"That all depends," Loboh said, perusing the cargo hold with an appraising stare, "On a number of factors. Let me see her."

Fett caught Nomi and shoved her forward to the other man. Loboh grabbed her wrist without preamble and turned it over to conduct a quick, thorough observation. Nomi had no time to conceal the bruise marks dotting the delicate flesh on her wrist.

"She's been manhandled, Fett."

"Not by me."

"What are these bruises from?" Loboh asked. Nomi didn't answer him; she was too ashamed to admit the truth.

"The result of a rather violent encounter with Zed Recner, I believe," Fett said calmly.

_Zed Recner_. So that was her assailant's name. At the time it hadn't mattered to her to even find out that much. She acted out of self-preservation. Not knowing his name had helped her to dehumanize him during and after the kill. But now, she felt a pang of guilt in her otherwise steely stomach.

Loboh stepped forward and raised a hand to her cheek, surveying her. She flinched at his touch.

"So, you're Rhendel's widow, are you?"

She refused to even look at him, though the stench of his breath was overpowering.

"Not much for talking, is she?"

Dengar snorted in reply, muttering something about how stubborn she was.

"I can change that," Loboh said confidently. "But my only concern is the datapad, which you've assured me she has in her possession, Fett."

He said, coolly, "I never said it was in her possession. I said she knows where it's located."

Loboh stroked his chin twice while circling Nomi.

"Well, that changes things then."

"Not the price," Fett said, cocking back the hammer of his blaster to aim it at Loboh's head. Nomi knew there would be nothing preventing him from pulling the trigger if he wanted, a thought that thrilled and frightened her at the same time.

"I expect to be paid in full. I've delivered your merchandise and, as you can very well see, she is in prime condition, excepting the bruises she acquired while not in my possession."

"You drive a hard bargain, Fett," Loboh said sourly. "Though there must have been some misunderstanding…"

"No misunderstanding," Fett corrected him. "Feel free to search her yourself."

Loboh did just that, rummaging through the small pack Nomi had, though she screamed "hey!" in disgust.

"See?" Fett said. "Nothing. I've no need to cheat you on a price."

Loboh nodded grimly.

"Yes, the rumors say a multitude of wealth has flown into your coffers, Fett. Though what would one such as you do with all that money?"

Fett didn't answer him, only raised his blaster a fraction of an inch higher. Loboh sent one appraising glance around the ship's innards, the disgust apparent on his face.

"From the looks of it, you surely haven't used it to patch up this old trash compactor you're riding around in. Which leaves only a few other options."

Fett was growing impatient with the entire situation.

"Your speculations are irrelevant. I've come here for a trade, and so did you."

Loboh smiled, completely unfazed by the fact that he was being stared at through the crosshairs of a blaster. Nomi had never met anybody who cared as little about dying as Fett. Loboh was another such man.

"Too bad you didn't find some other use for your skills than being a bounty hunter. You would've served either the Rebellion or the Empire well, I'm sure."

"I'm not one to take sides," Fett growled. "It doesn't suit me."

"Yes, I've noticed." Loboh drew a jagged, uneven breath—perhaps a testament to the fact that he wasn't as calm as he looked. "Look, Fett, I can give you three quarters of the amount we agreed on. I'm being generous. It's more than this lead is worth."

Fett's finger balanced on the trigger.

"For someone who is so eager to get their hands on the stolen datapad, you're not being nearly generous enough."

Loboh smiled, as though daring Fett to try it. Nomi thought it was incredibly ironic that the both of them were arguing over a supposedly nonexistent datapad that was wedged firmly in her pocket. She had but to deactivate the cloaking device and reveal it for what it truly was…but if things kept up this way, it looked like one or another of them would be spaced in another few minutes.

"Look, Fett, I'll pay you the three-quarters and be on my way. I doubt you can find another buyer willing to put down such a sum on evidence you can't back up."

"Give me time," Fett said, "And I will have it out of her. All of the information."

Loboh nodded at this proposition, which was apparently to his liking. Nomi supposed a man like him didn't like to get his hands dirty; instead, he hired others like Fett to enact his plans. To her, he was worse than Fett, who could blow away an opponent without a second thought. Loboh had other designs in mind, which made him equally dangerous—if not more.

"And Fett?"

The bounty hunter raised his head tiredly in the direction of the other man to indicate that he was listening.

"Don't keep drawing your gun on me every time we meet. It's bad for business. People will start to think you're trigger happy."

"Get out, Loboh," Fett rasped. The transfer hatchway slid closed after the generously rotund man and Fett turned his helmeted gaze in Nomi's direction.

"You, come with me," he said, grabbing her by the arm despite her scream of protest. He forced her back into her cage, but instead of locking the door, he came inside the space only small enough for one person, his gun drawn.

"You heard what Loboh said…trigger happy," Nomi quipped. Fett raised his blaster.

"You better start talking. You just ruined my business deal."

"Why not just use a mind probe?" Nomi suggested. "I think there's a _few_ childhood secrets you haven't tried to rip out of me yet."

"I'm considering it," Fett said in all honesty. "Until you decide to talk, you're staying in this cage. And…without this."

His hand swiped at the half-eaten fruit, tossing it over his shoulder into the metal reaches of the cargo hold. Nomi's stomach began to growl in response. She had hoped Dengar would sneak down more food to her, but with the mounted security cam, Fett would probably see to it that she didn't eat until she talked.

"Fett, get up here!" Dengar's voice called from the cockpit. The Slave 1's engines had been fired up again, but the ship stood stagnant in an air pocket.

"We will continue this discussion later," Fett informed her. Nomi was tossed off her bed as a volley of laserfire hit the ship's hull, shaking it like an earthquake. Fett took the stairs two at a time, rushing up to assume the controls from his partner. Nomi heard Dengar's adamant protests, followed by Fett's insisting on absolute silence while he worked to fend off the attack.

_That's strange that Loboh would open fire on him after their agreement_, Nomi thought, though stranger things _had_ happened in this galaxy.

But Dengar's voice negated that thought scarcely before the seed had been planted in her mind: "What the blazes? Why's that squadron firing on us? Nobody really likes you, huh?"

"Be quiet," Fett growled, his hands working the dials. From her vantage point, Nomi could see all of the cockpit's action without having to crane her neck much. Through the forward viewport, a large ship the size of a star destroyer was perched in front of the Slave 1. Fett worked the controls, drawing the tiny ship into a sharp arc, just evading the pull of the ship's tractor beam.

As soon as they were clear, Dengar wiped the sweat from his brow.

"That was close," he huffed. "But what would Black Sun want with us?"

"Obviously not to extend a welcoming party," Fett suggested. "They were after something."

"A datapad-shaped something?" Dengar asked, narrowing his eyes at Nomi.

"Possibly."

"I'll kill her myself if she doesn't tell us where the damn thing's at!" Dengar swore.

"Patience. She will tell us all we need to know…when the time is right," Fett said knowingly, working the controls. "For now, I am going to put us down in Naboo. She ship's sustained some damage to the exterior hull. I don't want it causing problems for us later on."

"That's the plan?" Dengar asked quizzically. "Why don't we just hand over the damn girl to whoever wants her, and get Black Sun off our tail!"

"There's a profit that could yet be made from this," Fett predicted, "Though you are too stupid to see it."

"Gee, thanks, Fett. You're a real sweetheart!" Dengar said with mock enthusiasm.

"I'm not in this business to dole out compliments," Fett said. "You follow orders, or I'll deposit you back on Tatooine where I found you."

Nomi saw the workings of Dengar's mind, and how he had decided that staying with Fett was his most profitable course of action for now.

Fett argued for clearance over the comlink with a Rodian operator, then made the descent through Naboo's atmosphere into the spaceport. Nomi watched through the viewport as verdant green hills and rolling plains filled her sight, and she was overcome with an incredible sense of calm. She'd be grateful to get out of the ship and stretch her legs for a while—that is, if Fett let her loose.

Fett got up and left his chair unoccupied. He hit a control panel on the wall to activate a security system that would alert him to anyone entering and exiting the ship.

"Stay here and watch the controls while I find the parts we need," he ordered Dengar, who settled comfortably into the co-pilot's chair. He blinked, once, and shot an irritated glance back at Nomi.

"And don't you think about even trying anything. I got my eye on you."

But he didn't keep his promise. After several moments of waiting, Dengar's body relaxed into the chair, his shoulders slumped, his head lolling backward as he dozed peacefully. Nomi couldn't blame him…but this would also give her time to attempt to escape. Even if she wasn't successful, she had to at least try.

She twisted the lock on the small holding cage, but it wouldn't come undone. She undid a hairpin and tried to jiggle it through the lock unsuccessfully several times. After the fourth try, though, it popped open and she silently left the cage. She walked through the main hold into the cockpit, careful not to rouse Dengar from his enviable sleep. With Fett gone and Dengar out for the count, it gave her the chance to input the datapad into the computer's main system. She worked fast to draw up the list of information, most of which were names and dates. But something usual caught the corner of her eye, and she scrolled down further to see the Black Sun insignia on the page. She knew it must have been somehow connected to their recent run-in with the huge cruiser above Naboo's atmosphere.

"Find anything interesting?" a cold voice asked from behind her.

"No," she trilled, trying, in vain, to cover up her findings. "Nothing at all."

Dengar stirred in his seat, saying sleepily,

"I just had my eye on…hey, how'd she get up _here_?"

Fett shoved her aside with one effortless swipe. Nomi went on a short, expletive-filled diatribe that rather amused him.

"Thank you," he said, retrieving the datapad and chip, "You've been helpful. Now I have a bargaining chip."

"So you're going to conclude your business with Loboh?" she asked, with both arms crossed.

"Yes. But don't worry. Whether or not you live depends upon how interested Loboh is in what you've got to say."

"I'm not worried," Nomi lied, "And I doubt you are."

He nodded.

"Live, die—your life means nothing to me."

"All that matters is you get paid."

"Yes," Fett agreed, "And you've had your uses in helping me to acquire what it is I want."

He turned over the chip in his hands.

"Might as well examine this, get some information so I know what it really is I'm bartering with here. Take her back to her cell."

While Fett was busy contacting Loboh with the news, Dengar grabbed Nomi and thrust her back in the holding cell.

"You try that again and you might regret it," he said, trying to sound tough.

"Yeah, yeah," Nomi complained, assuming her usual seat on the overcramped bed.

All that she heard was Fett's mechanical voice, droning away tirelessly…and she knew that this time, there was no escaping her fate.


	5. Grounded in Naboo

Loboh had some previous business engagement, allowing Fett the time needed to install new parts for the ship. Though he had ordered for extra security on Nomi, Dengar was lax about his duties. The trip seemed to have worn him out terribly, as he dozed quietly in the co-pilot's seat. It wasn't long before Fett entered with a dirty hydrospanner in hand, tossing it aside to wipe his gloved hands off.

He opened the door to Nomi's cage and slapped a pair of binders on her, before shrugging her out by the arm. She followed him obediently, without asking questions. She was already hungry from the lack of food, and getting on Fett's bad side would only complicate matters more.

Fett kicked Dengar's chair once, sharply, rousing him from his sleep. Dengar blinked a few times and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He had been dreaming about his beloved, Manaroo, but the rude reality of Fett standing before him made the exquisite dream quickly escape him. He stood up, at the ready.

"Yeah? What now? You contact Loboh?"

"He is currently engaged with other matters," Fett explained, "Which has given me time to make the necessary repairs. Now, I want you and her to accompany me to the library archives. I'm going to search the modules to see what I can dig up about Black Sun."

Dengar scratched his head, another useless expression on his face. Nomi was becoming just as frustrated with his lack of intelligence as Fett appeared to be.

"But, don't you need someone guarding the ship?"

"I've already paid for that duty to be taken care of. I doubt anybody will be stealing from me anytime soon."

He briefly brandished the blaster holstered to his side in a thrillingly dangerous gesture. Nomi's eyes followed where his hand patted the blaster into place, wondering how many people he had killed with it—and how he had become what he was now, a mere hollow of a man with no soul and no apparent capacity for human emotion.

"Yeah," Dengar said, nodding an agreement. He wasn't one to argue with Fett—not after the countless acts of atrocity he had seen him commit.

The three of them walked down the streets of Naboo together, though Fett had shed his armor and tossed on an old cloak to conceal his identity. He held the edges about his face, so that Nomi couldn't get a real glimpse of him. From what she could see, however, Fett had dark, straight hair and an unimpressed scowl planted on his lips. The rest he kept hidden—even from Dengar.

"This way, we draw less attention to ourselves," Fett explained, giving them both two other cloaks he had stored upon his ship. Nomi followed both of them men reluctantly out, feeling the sharpness of Fett's fingers dig into her flesh. What a sight she must have been—traveling around for several days with little food and sleep, badly bruised and beaten. It was a wonder she hadn't dropped dead of exhaustion the moment she set foot on Naboo.

When they entered the archives, Fett was immediately escorted to a service representative standing nearby, her hair in a long topknot. The woman guided them through several stacks of archival documents, then to the holonet. Fett sat down and tapped out a few keys to draw up some info. Nomi cast a bored glance around her.

The archive was bustling with a lot of people—mainly scholars, as well as some noble-looking dignitaries. None of them stopped to even question what they were doing here. On Ndeki, however, that would not have been the case. Despite her dignified position, Nomi had to gain access to every inch of the palace through means of a digital handprint and a picture bearing her likeness. On Naboo, it seemed, things were far freer. She had hoped there would be some kind of a deterrent to Fett's quest; something to get her out of this mess she was tied up in.

Fett's finger flickered over the keys a minute.

"That is interesting," he said. For the first time, Nomi could hear his voice—his real voice—and it wasn't the metallic voice of a droid or machine. It had a deep, rich resonance to it; silky and inviting, at the same time it was dangerous. She wanted to lift back the cowl of his cloak and peer into face, to learn the secret of the man who had kept himself so deeply hidden from all the rest of the world. But attempting that would certainly cost her her life.

"What is it?" Dengar asked, putting himself within viewing range of the screen as he squinted to read the words that flashed across its surface.

"There was a certain article of information in this datapad bearing the name of Razurz, a prince of Falleen descent, implicating him in the attempted assassination of his superior, Prince Xizor."

Dengar rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"So? What's that got to do with us?"

"I was just getting to that," Fett said, his glare visible even through the folds of the cloak. "Razurz comes from a long line of second-rate Falleen officials. Back on the Falleen homeworld, there are several ruling families in power. Xizor's line has had a long reign, while Razurz's is notably overlooked—or so the story goes…"

Fett tapped out another key to bring up a second page of information, before inputting the datapad chip that he had brought with him.

"This datapad exposes his scheme to employ a bounty hunter by the name of Var Mesha to abduct the prince and execute him. It also contains plans for his ascension as head of Black Sun."

The light from the computer face glowed on Dengar's clammy skin.

"I don't get it. Such a thing can't be easy. I mean, Xizor's got tons of loyal subjects guarding him. The Prince isn't that easy a target."

"Obviously, Xizor's confidantes are being paid for their silence on the matter. And obviously, they would no doubt like to get their hands on a piece of the evidence."

His hand retrieved the chip from the input terminal, storing it in his pocket again.

"That is where this data comes in handy. If Loboh's out to get this information, then he's either trying to blackmail Razurz with it, or present it to the ruling Prince to get into his good graces."

Nomi scrunched up her face in non-understanding, momentarily commanding all of Fett's attention.

"I still don't understand why that squadron fired on us. You said they had the Black Sun insignia?"

Fett nodded.

"Undoubtedly. Either Xizor commanded it because he was tipped off about this evidence exposing Razurz for the traitor that he is, or some of Xizor's aides who are currently taking bribes from Razurz have been tipped off that _we_ are in possession of it."

_Unfortunate for me_, Nomi thought glumly. If she had only saved the datapad in her pocket to pore over at another day, none of this would have been happening. She would be sleeping somewhere in a nice, snug, warm bed instead of trotting around on some wild goose chase with two ruthless bounty hunters. She had been told you were judged by the company you keep. Hanging around with other bounty hunters wasn't exactly her idea of a good time. Perhaps that was her own royal upbringing talking in her mind. She, too, was a bounty hunter, so why did she take such offense to these particular two?

"Either way, the situation isn't looking pleasant," Fett said, rising from his chair. "We need to lay low for a while before our meeting with Loboh. If Black Sun's out looking for us, it's best not to go cruising the galaxy transmitting our access number to all sectors…"

"Lay low?" Dengar queried. "In this dump?"

"The pleasures of the hunt pale in comparison to ground-time," Fett said.

_Finally_, Nomi thought. A spark of life. That was the first humanly thing she had heard him say since their time together, though it wasn't much. At least that was one point they agreed on.

"What about your ship?" Dengar asked. "If it's in the docking bay for a few days, won't some of those guys tip 'em off as to our whereabouts?"

"They will not know. I've used a simple cloaking device on the ship. Not strong enough to hold while in transit, but good for the ground. It will disguise the ship for the time being."

Dengar nodded as if this information was satisfactory to him, but he still wasn't amused at the prospect of spending a few days in close, cramped quarters with the female human and none other than Fett himself. The look upon his face was one of pure loathing, though he said nothing of it.

"For now we'll need an apartment," Fett said, "To stay until I can find enough information about this plot from the datapad. Thankfully, Nomi broke the encrypted code."

_Yeah, thankful for you, not for me_, Nomi griped inwardly. Her happiness at having finally decoded the data was short-lived when Fett made his appearance. She had made a slip once, and she swore to never let it happen again. From now on, she kept a tight lip around these two.

Fett motioned them out of the library and down the street, where he proceeded to haggle with a broker for two rooms. The first he kept for himself, while he ordered Dengar to guard their quarry in the other. Nomi wondered why he had insisted on such absolute privacy for himself. But seeing him in his armor made her believe that his identity was something he had guarded as sacredly as any of his motives. He certainly wasn't offering her any opportunity to understand the way in which he operated…

Nomi sat down on the small bed overlooking the Nabooian palace and sighed. It was a beautiful day out, and she didn't want to spend it confined to such a tiny room with a bounty hunter who smelled like he needed a good dip in the 'fresher. Dengar seemed to feel similarly: he didn't say anything to her, and he kept his body turned away from her. He had not shown her anymore kindness since giving her the stale fruit, if she could even truly call that kindness. Kindness was such a thing in short supply on Fett's ship.

When Fett emerged from his quarters into the room they shared, he was wearing his Mandalorian armor again. He walked quickly over to Nomi and undid her binders. Peering quizzically up at him, she asked,

"Why?"

"You're useless to me if you can't fight. And you may need to do so, should the need arise."

"Fight?" she asked, with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm not taking any chances with Black Sun operatives on our tail. It would be more profitable were you to be uninhibited in any way, including this."

He tossed aside the binders casually, not even scooping to pick them up.

"So you need _my_ help?" she asked, the amusement apparent in her voice. "I thought the great Boba Fett operated alone."

"I _do_ operate alone," he corrected her. "It is your choice. Live or die. Doesn't matter. I am only giving you a warning."

"I see," Nomi said with a sneer. "I suppose I can acquiesce to your demands this once. Just don't make it a habit."

"Good," Fett said with a methodical nod of the head. "We are of one mind."

"Completely," Nomi said. He walked out of the room as soundlessly as he had first entered, making Nomi's anger boil beneath her skin. How could he act so calm and collected when she was sitting here afraid she'd die at any minute? Not that he'd care—he had professed many times not to. She wondered if it was his own lack of fear that motivated him and caused him to see other living objects as mere playthings to be used and discarded.

_I'm done being a pawn in his little scheme_, Nomi thought bitterly, reliving thoughts of the night Gharon had died. She had been but a pawn that night too, but now, she was going to start taking control back…starting with Fett.


	6. Hatching a Scheme

The day was unbearably long. Fett had bowed out of any sort of confrontation she had planned for him by going down to delve through the archives some more, leaving her alone with Dengar. Dengar mostly pretended he was asleep by imitating snores that would have been convincing had she not heard him muttering curses under his breath. She could safely say she felt the same with him as a companion.

After a few more hours of this behavior, Nomi got up and paced toward the door.

"What're you doing?" Dengar asked, shooting stark upright from his reclining position. It was obvious now he had been avoiding her entirely; having to explain any of Fett's motives was way beyond him, and he didn't have the patience to entertain her with stories of his exploits.

"What does it look like? I've been cooped in here all day long and I need to get some air," Nomi informed him, as though she was issuing a command to an inferior personage. Dengar crossed both arms across his chest, an amused expression on his face.

"Oh, is that the way it works, sister?"

"Yeah," Nomi said.

"I don't think so. Fett gave me explicit orders to keep you here."

"Well, if that's your defense, then it's not much of one," Nomi stated, palming the lock to open the door as she had seen Fett do numerous times. He didn't know then, but she had committed the numbers to memory, waiting and hoping for the time she could use them to plot an escape.

"What makes you think I'm going to let you walk out of here without a fight?" Dengar asked, lacing both hands behind his head. She knew he was thoroughly enjoying this, though it was just wasting her time.

"You going to shoot me? I'll just walk right out of here."

"Try it," he said. His hand, which had been curled behind his head, promptly drew out a blaster gun he had stashed under his pillow, and clicked it into place. Nomi froze as he stared down the barrel with her in his sights.

"Yeah, go ahead, shoot me down," Nomi said, trying to adopt the indifferent manner of Fett himself, "But Fett won't like it when he comes back to find his prize package in a pool of blood. Think about it a little, weigh your options. With me as your meal ticket, who knows what kind of money is in it for you both?"

Dengar lifted an eyebrow in apprehension, though he considered what she said. Slowly, he let the blaster drop to his side.

"Fine. Blaster's out of the question. But I'm not above punching another bounty hunter—_even a woman_."

_He could sure use the exercise_, Nomi thought with irritation as she stared down at Dengar's relaxed form on the bed. He was more than twice her size in girth, though she had the added advantage of being agile and quick on her feet. She knew she could easily take him, but for what gain? Fett would have his ways of knowing, no doubt, and come find her.

She went and slumped down on her bed, rumpling the neatly made sheets.

"Fine. You win. I stay here, but only because I've got enough nicks and bruises to kill a bantha." She turned her head sharply around, violet eyes glaring at him. "And do me another favor. Don't tell Fett about any of this."

"Yes your highness," he said, with both hands raised in mock reverence.

Nomi shot a vengeful stare at him over his shoulder. Dengar's back was turned to her once again, feigning sleep.

"I've heard the stories, you know."

"What now?" Dengar asked tiredly.

"About you and Manaroo. That's her name, right?" Nomi said, trying a more tactical approach. If she was going to go head-to-head with Fett, Dengar was her best ally, and upsetting him certainly wouldn't better her chances.

"Yeah, left her back on Tatooine with my ship, _Punishing One_," he said, his glassy eyes staring at the pitched ceiling. "I'm eager for this partnership to be over so I can go home to her. Fett's not nearly as nice a companion."

Nomi chuckled.

"You know, the longer you keep me here, the longer this will all drag out."

Dengar grinned wolfishly.

"Oh no you don't. Don't think I'm gonna release you on that account."

"I'm sure Manaroo's missing you too," Nomi suggested. Dengar flipped over, his hands clamped over his ears to drown out her words.

"Quiet and let me get some shut-eye."

But his sleep was interrupted by Fett's timely entrance. He strode in purposefully, throwing down a thick pack of paper on top of which lay the datapad.

"Done your homework?" Nomi asked.

"Yes."

"Good, then you'll know I had nothing to do with this at all!"

"Your relation to Gharon Rhendel implicates you in this," Fett said, "Which is why I'm not taking my chances. You lied to me once about your possession of the stolen datapad. I have no reason to believe you will not do so again."

Nomi, who had stood to acknowledge his presence, flopped down on the bed.

"Brilliant! What am I going to do for the next three days? Sit tight and enjoy the view from this room?"

She would rather be walking around in the markets of Naboo, taking in all the sights and landmarks, than sitting here while Fett tried to draw out some long, complicated scheme.

"No. You're going to help me."

"With?" Nomi inquired, though she was a little afraid to ask.

"My sources indicate that the prince Razurz is visiting Naboo on a diplomatic mission," Fett said, highlighting some of the more important passages from the info he had just tossed at her. Nomi gazed at it curiously, though Fett limited her exposure to the documents to make sure she didn't know too much. "That presents us with the perfect opportunity to question him about the manner."

"So where do_ I_ fit in to all this?" Nomi asked, somewhat timidly. She could see Fett using her as a decoy somehow, but she wasn't sure what she would have to do to get the information she wanted. Males of the Falleen species were said to be very _persuasive_ in getting what it was they wanted…especially from females.

"I was just coming to that," Fett said, his helmet inclined slightly downward so he could better view her from where he stood. "Razurz is something of a philanderer; he quite enjoys the company of pretty young women. So you more than fit the bill."

She blushed a little at the offhanded compliment, though she wasn't sure if Fett was actually flattering her due to the flat intonation of his voice. Her mind, still recovering from this revelation, settled on another point: _what exactly did he mean that she would help him with this?_

Her head did the math, figuring out just what it was Fett had in mind for her. Would seducing Razurz make her privy to his deepest, darkest secrets? Her skin prickled involuntarily at the thought. She wasn't ready for a deal like that.

She had never been with a man since her husband, though her encounter with her attacker could hardly have been considered intimacy. If anything, it was the furthest thing from it, driving her to shun all closeness to other humans, no matter how badly she longed for it. She had even gone so far as to have gotten involved with a star swoop racer, to alleviate the pain of loss and isolation. Their coupling, while nothing short of disastrous, had ended a month later when Nomi refused to commit herself to the full extent.

"I'm not prostituting myself, if that's what you mean," she said adamantly, pointing a finger up in his face, nearly hitting the dark tint of his t-shaped visor.

"You misunderstood me," Fett said, "That was not what I had in mind. Something a little less obvious."

"Like?"

"Use your imagination," Fett said, "I don't know."

Nomi nodded her head. Dealing with Razurz was not going to be a piece of cake, and she certainly didn't see why she owed Fett this much.

"Why should I do this for you?" Nomi asked. "What makes you think I'd willingly risk my neck for you?"

Fett stepped forward a fraction of an inch, so that she caught a whiff of the raw musky smell emanating from his body. It was intoxicating, daring her to lean a little closer…

"Because if you don't, Nomi, I will offer you to for Black Sun myself. And they are not as forgiving as I am."

"And ruin a potential business proposition?" Nomi asked. "I'm shocked!"

"Whatever gets the job done," Fett said, lifting his broad shoulders in something that closely resembled a shrug. "I'm sure they will be more than interested in what you have to tell them about the contents of this datapad. And believe me, their operatives have perfected techniques to…shall we say, coax, the secrets out of any unwilling prisoners?"

Nomi knew it was not beneath Fett to betray her to the criminal organization; and Xizor would certainly enjoy extracting all the details of Razurz's scheme from her, since she was now presumably the datapad's sole living owner. She kept replaying the events of that night—if only she hadn't accompanied Gharon into that seedy, backwater cantina…

_If only._

"Fine, Fett, you've made your point," Nomi said. "But do you really want me to go in undercover looking like this?"

She indicated her tight black pants and top with a simple gesture. If she was going to persuade Razurz to tell her all of his secrets, she would need to assume the role of gentle noblewoman down to all the royal airs and graces she had perfected over the last twenty-two years of her life. Fett seemed to be in accordance with her.

"I will put down some money…only a small sum…for you to buy what you need in the marketplace."

_Finally!_ She thought, her heart jumping a little at the proposition. Anything to get out of this room.

"Dengar will accompany you on your excursion," Fett said, waving a hand to the other bounty hunter.

"Hey, now! Wait!" Dengar said, swinging both meaty legs over the bedside. "I'm not her baby-sitter!"

"Are you refusing to follow an order?" Fett asked dangerously, his voice pitched low.

"No."

"Good. Take her now. We have four standard hours before Razurz is due at the Nabooian palace, which should give her more than enough time to assume her new identity."

"Yes," she agreed reluctantly, "It will."

"Go," Fett said coldly, after issuing Dengar a few credit chits. Nomi followed him outside, ever conscious of the dangerous-looking blaster strapped to his side. It wouldn't take much for him to draw it out and shoot her if she tried to run…

But running was the furthest thing from her mind. For the first time, she actually felt interested in what she might learn from this virtually obscure Falleen prince. What had Gharon been up to during all those previous business deals? Perhaps the jobs he took were not as savory as he'd claimed…


	7. Nabooian Palace Party

Fett gave her the sum of money as promised, though it was smaller than what she had been expecting. She took it glumly and headed for the Nabooian markets with Dengar. The other bounty hunter was obviously peeved at having been dragged on a shopping excursion, but Nomi could safely say she felt the same. Part of the thing that made her abandon her position as royalty was all the countless customs and frivolities of the court…such as shopping.

She'd never had to shop for herself with a full household staff specifically employed to wait on her and Gharon at all times. She was certain today would be interesting, to say the least. Especially now that Dengar was in charge of carrying all her purchases.

She selected a few items from a Twi'lek in the marketplace: a rich-looking red brocade gown accented with fine silver beads around the neck and hemline. After picking out a few more items for her hair, and a crested ornamental neckpiece to show off the slender curve of her throat, she trotted back toward their apartments.

Draping the various items in her arms, they padded down the long walkway where a great throng of people was gathered. A circuit of noble-looking emissaries was flowing into the palace, accompanied by the scant applause of the confused onlookers. Nomi craned her neck higher to see over the towering mass of hair in front of her.

"Who is that?" she asked.

"That's prince Razurz," the woman in front of her promptly replied. "He comes from the Falleen world to seek an audience with the queen."

The newly elected queen of Naboo's policies had been favorable with the locals and especially the Empire, so Nomi could see how one such as Razurz could profit from a seemingly innocent visit. He would probably lobby for her support in times of crisis, to back his word against Xizor's, and in turn, the Falleen would protect the peaceful Naboo from the onslaught of critical attacks it had suffered in the last few years, largely due to its mineral-rich sources and deposits.

Nomi watched the prince pass, attended by a few reptilian-looking escorts who carried his overlarge robe. He wore a glamorously long train that extended out twice the size of his body length, humping over his broad shoulders with intricate ease. Nomi felt her violet eyes settle on him somewhat lustfully, though she had never been attracted to the physical attributes of Falleens. As he passed near her, he seemed to exude the very essence of virility and prowess—and Nomi was suddenly tempted to follow after him. But the throng of quietly dispersing people prevented her from taking another step further, inhibiting her movement. Dengar jerked his head to one side.

"You ready? Let's go."

She nodded her assent, though her head was still reeling from her quasi-encounter with the Falleen male. He was…captivating in a way that no other man had ever captivated her before. With his frilly topknot of hair swinging behind a perfectly sculpted head, smooth, green skin and penetrating eyes, she found herself melting almost instantly.

_What's happening with you?_ She questioned herself. _It's not like you to go throwing yourself at strange men. Get a grip._

Though her mind cautioned her against this uncharacteristic attachment, that was what her body told her she desperately wanted. She felt the familiar heat within her loins, sparked by that brief encounter. Though they hadn't even been touching, he was almost overpowering. She wondered if she would fare better or worse in his private company, with no one around to restrain her. Would she simply throw her inhibitions to the wind? Somehow, the thought of her encounter with Zed flew far from her mind at the sight of him.

"So," she said, feeling the haze that formerly clouded her vision begin to dissolve, "What makes you think Fett'll live up to his end of the bargain?"

"Bargain? What bargain?" Dengar barked, looking back at her over his shoulder. "When you're working with Fett you follow orders. There's _no kind_ of a bargain!"

"I mean…" Nomi began patiently. Trying to haggle with Dengar was like trying to pin a tail on an angry bantha. "What makes you think he isn't handing us over to Black Sun by sending us on this little useless errand? What if, at the end of this long trail, one of their operatives is just waiting down the line for us?"

"Hey," Dengar said, stopping a moment, "There's no 'us' in this. I'm not about to get mixed up with Black Sun over some female bounty hunter."

"Too late," Nomi said. "I'm afraid you don't have much choice."

Dengar gave a snort of derision.

"Yeah. It always seems that way when Fett's around. Not much choice in anything you do. I just follow the orders he issues."

"Why follow him? Why not go on your own?"

Dengar jabbed a finger roughly into her chest, an action that promised she would be aching the next morning.

"Wait a minute. One second you're telling me it's profitable to follow him _and_ not kill you, the next you're questioning my motives?" Dengar shook his head. "I don't understand you."

"The feeling's mutual," Nomi said sourly. "First you give me food, then you take it away. Sometimes I don't know who's side your on."

"I'm not on anyone's side," Dengar corrected her, getting up in her face, "The only one I'm looking out for is _me_!"

"Yeah, I kind of noticed. And I feel sorry for her."

"Who?"

"Manaroo."

The comlink began blinking red, indicating that Dengar had received a message from Fett—which meant that they were to return to the apartment without hesitation. Dengar pulled her along forcibly, shoving her, headfirst, into the room once they'd arrived. Fett was there, standing by the window. Though it was obvious he had not been simply enjoying the view, Nomi had to wonder if he had taken any interest in their surroundings. Naboo was a beautiful place to be grounded on for a few days with time to kill. Surely he had to notice that much.

"So, you get it?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, though Nomi here took more time than was needed gazing at _his royal princeliness_," Dengar mocked, which earned him a curious but understandable stare from Fett. Nomi sat down, folding out her dress along the bed. The light in the room was low, as Fett had drawn the blinds, leaving her to make her preparations by dim candlelight.

"At least you were right," Dengar explained further, "At least Razurz is here and it isn't some wild goose chase you're sending us on, Fett. I don't like being jerked around, even if it _is_ for your own amusement!"

"Believe me, if I could devise some other way for me to obtain the information I want, I would gladly do it," Fett admitted. "Though having you both here is more profitable than doing this alone."

"At least you can put aside your ego long enough to admit that. _You need us_," Nomi began irritably.

"For the time being. Though there is no telling how soon that may change."

Fett's visored gaze swept across the dress, hair ornaments and jewelry articles she had lain out neatly on the bed. He nodded to her.

"Go get dressed. You may use the 'fresher, if you like."

She was glad he had extended that invitation. Getting dressed in the same room as the two bounty hunters gave her a creepy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she wasn't about to order them imperiously out of the room on her account, even if she _was_ used to issuing commands.

The 'fresher was filled with a heavenly scent, and cluttered with small articles advertising some of the more famous landmarks that Naboo boasted. Nomi sifted through them more out of boredom than anything else. That little incident down in the marketplace had her scared for her life. If she threw her inhibitions so easily to the wind, she was certain there would be no obtaining her objective. She had to command power over Razurz, not the other way around—but how she was ever going to accomplish that was beyond her.

Nomi slipped the delicate silk gown over her head, pulling it down into place to straighten out all the wrinkles. She surveyed herself once in the 'fresher mirror, looked at the thin woman staring back at her with ghostly eyes and skin so pale she might as well have been dead. She hardly recognized herself these last few months. She had eaten little and slept even less, and it was showing in her face as a result.

She brushed her hair back and pulled it into a jeweled clasp at the crown of her head, letting a multitude of curls flow down over her bare white shoulders. She brushed some powder onto her skin to conceal the bagginess under her eyes, then highlighted and accented her eyes with kohl and her lips with a deep, red cosmetic. She took one last look in the mirror. The reflection that peered back was marginally better, though she knew the loads of makeup she had caked and lacquered on were only hiding her own insecurities.

As she re-emerged from the 'fresher, Fett handed her a datapad.

"Here. This is some useful information about the prince that you need to know."

"How am I going to do this?" Nomi complained, resisting the urge to wipe away all the makeup she had just painstakingly applied with the back of her hand when she saw Fett staring for an unnaturally long time at her.

"I will wire you with a holocam, so Dengar and I can see all the details of what's going down from here, without ever having to set foot in the palace."

Nomi took the holocam that he extended in his one hand, tucking it into a strategically placed fold in her dress. As she adjusted it on her collar, she looked shyly up at Fett from under long black-flecked lashes.

"Before you go, I will inform you that males of the Falleen species can exude very potent pheromones that can dissolve the will of most humanoid females almost instantly."

"Oh, I…" Nomi faltered and blushed.

"The experience with a Falleen is reputedly more intense and pleasurable and lasts longer than with other sentients of the human species. Though I would highly advise against it, seeing as not many females have lived to tell of these encounters, of the few there are."

She wondered how he knew this, and what sources, if any, he had consulted for this information.

"He won't…dissolve my will in any way!" Nomi lied, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks at that declaration.

"It will take great restraint," Fett said flatly. "So you're forewarned. Forewarned is forearmed, and I want you to go in having the upper hand."

"I won't have to…"

"Not if you play your cards straight, no."

His answer was as cold and clipped as she had expected; not the calming words she was used to receiving from Gharon when he sensed her anxiety, but the careless indifference of a droid programmed to kill.

Dengar adjusted the holocam readout from his vantage point at a nearby terminal inside the room.

"Your new identity will be Lady Aeryn L'ir," Fett informed her, pointing out all the details in the datapad he had just handed her.

"Ah, a good, standard name. Really safe," Nomi said, realizing that with the name she had, it would betray her as one of the Ndeki royal family. It was only a matter of time in which Razurz would make the connection from Rhendel to her home planet—especially a creature so well traveled and well versed in offworld cores and customs as the Falleen prince must surely have been.

She drew a jagged breath, trying to steady her breathing to a more normal rate. Her heart was racing ahead of her. This was something of which Fett seemed to take notice, though he didn't comment on it.

"If you play your part well, Razurz will not suspect you. Use whatever tools necessary. And don't return empty-handed, Nomi."

"Or?" she asked, expecting an addition to this threat.

"Or I might be forced to make life a little more unpleasant for you."

"You're already making my life unpleasant," Nomi informed him, though she suspected this was what he wanted to hear.

"I said 'a little _more_ unpleasant,'" Fett corrected her.

"Fine."

"Go. Keep your wits about you."

She was aware of their gazes both following her as she left the tiny apartment, heading for the palace where a short banquet was to be held before the meeting with the Nabooian queen. The walk down the long steps of the apartment was beginning to wear her, especially in the uncomfortably high shoes she had donned just for the occasion. She could see now that they were an impractical buy. If she needed to move quickly out of a situation with Razurz, it would cost her precious time.

She dismissed all thought as she entered the courtyard of the palace, introducing herself to the sentinels who stood on guard. All it required was a name to bypass the heavy security, much to her surprise. She could have practically waltzed in here in her own getup, which would have left her better prepared for whatever Razurz would have thrown at her…

Her head was aching fit to burst as she entered the huge hall. The palace towered several stories above the rest of the city, dwarfing it like a giant sandcrawler. Inside, the halls were just as momentous, boasting a large amount of dining space as well as an impressive throne room. Nomi took a curious look around, ever conscious of the holocam she was wired with, before a trumpet signaled the start of the formal banquet.

The royalty flocked to the banquet, arm-in-arm. Though Nomi had tried to strike up a conversation here and there, her social skills were failing her terribly. She was more worried about her performance in front of Fett and Dengar, who were watching all the action from their front-row seats back in the apartment. How well she assumed this guise dictated how long she would live…as did her success in prodding Razurz for information.

Her breathing slowed to a crawl as someone tapped her on her shoulder. She turned to see the same Falleen male standing before her, still clothed in the ornate robes that complimented his olive green skin. She wondered briefly what those robes would look like tossed in a heap on the floor...and quicky dismissed the thought. Nomi looked into his eyes and felt a flutter under her breastbone. The drinking glass she had been clutching slackened a little in her grip.


	8. Encounter with Razurz

"Mistress L'ir, I presume?" His voice was a silken hiss, full of both honey and venom. His solicitousness was just a wall to prevent her from seeing further. She knew he could become instantly dangerous at any moment.

"How do you know my name?"

Razurz gave her the same smile that had captivated her the first time she saw him.

"The sentinels here are fortunately in possession of a wealth of information. I merely inquired and they told me who you were. They also said you come from Fehi, on the Outer Rim."

He held up his glass for her to clink hers in an informal toast. She did so, obligingly.

"Fehi?" she asked petulantly. "Yes…I do."

He narrowed his eyes a little at her hesitance, then resumed speaking.

"You've come to hear the queen's treatise?"

"Yes," Nomi said, painfully aware of how idiotic this conversation must sound to the trained ears of both Fett and Dengar. She didn't have the amount of time needed to go over the documents Fett had issued her, so playing along with whatever little articles of knowledge Razurz claimed to have known seemed like her best bet at the time.

Nomi touched her throat a little to be sure the neckpiece was still dangling there.

"She is about to make an important announcement, or so I've been told. Senator Rahn sent me as a Fehi emissary. Hopefully we can begin negotiations to restore the balance of peace."

Razurz stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, looking out over the balustrade at the people milling about below. The room was filled with every kind of enticing odor, but none quite as strong as the steadily emanating aroma of the prince standing beside Nomi. He chafed his drinking glass in one hand.

"Fehi's an embattled world. I'm surprised the restoration efforts have gone so smoothly thus far."

He was referring, of course, to the bombing squad that had opened fire on the planet's inhabitants almost two years ago. Nomi had, fortunately, read up on that much to know where she was coming from.

"Yes, we are very fortunate to have good men supervising the construction," Nomi added, trying to play up the sorrow in her voice. "Fehi was a virtual war zone before the restoration began. We hope with the queen's support, we will rise to our old standards."

"One can only hope."

He nodded his head as if to some soundless rhythm, his eyes scanning out over the sea of faces that swarmed below them like fish. Nomi felt slightly uneasy when silence punctuated their conversation, leaving her nothing to do but play with the metallic accents on the neckline of her gown.

"You know, I don't think I've seen this many people together since leaving my homeworld five years ago."

"Five years!" Nomi mused, laughing inwardly at the blatant lie. It was quite obvious that Razurz had been organizing an assassination scheme on his homeworld for at least the past six months. Right away she knew she was dealing with a potentially dangerous creature.

"You've not visited for quite some time, then?"

"Yes," Razurz said with a methodical nod of the head. "_Quite some time_. I've thought of visiting quite often, but my duties have kept me mostly in the Mid Rim worlds. I've spent a great deal of time planet hopping on political errands."

"So what, that makes you some kind of spy?" Nomi asked shyly, peering out over her glass as she bent to take a sip. She made sure to hunch her shoulders forward, giving him an ample viewing space of her pushed-up assets. Razurz's eyes moved slowly down her face to her chest, then flickered briefly back up.

"No, not a spy. Diplomat is the term I prefer. I negotiate treaties for Prince Xizor."

"That sounds important," Nomi said stupidly, chancing a brief glance down to see that her holocam was still connected. It was. The red light was emitting a soft beep inside the folds of her gown, indicating to her that the live feed was still working.

"Yes," Razurz said, letting his one hand rest on the balustrade for support. As he leaned over, Nomi watched his elegant fingers curl over the beam, his bare spin exposed to her line of view. As enticing this exposing of flesh was, she ripped her glance immediately away, aware that if he noticed her staring at him in such a manner, he would make advances that she couldn't refuse.

"Quite important," he added. "I'm fortunate to have Xizor as a patron. My line of work brings me to many exotic worlds."

"How does Naboo rate in there?" Nomi suddenly thought to ask.

"_Very highly_," he said cryptically, letting his catlike eye slits shift toward her. She suddenly felt very aware of the heat in her chest. She realized this when she spilled a little of her drink on the front of her gown. _Damn_.

"Please, allow me," Razurz said, reaching forward to wipe off her stained garment. Nomi pulled back with a sudden flinch, afraid her movement might disrupt the cam feed—but even more afraid that Razurz might discover the cam planted on her.

"No, it's quite all right. I've got it covered," Nomi said, finding a small napkin to dab at her gown. Razurz chuckled slightly at her nervous gestures, the rhythm of her hand moving in small circles to soak up the stain.

"I think the queen's going to speak," Razurz whispered into her ear, escorting her down the short flight of stairs to the throne where the queen stood surrounded by her royal guard. She wore a gown embedded with thousands of little jewels from all corners of the galaxy; some of which Nomi had never seen before. Her face had even been painted with the ritual makeup that all former queens had worn before her.

But the queen's speech was uninteresting compared to her presentation. Halfway through the sermon, Nomi found herself rapidly losing interest. Razurz seemed to detect this as he laid one hand on her shoulder, causing her to shiver involuntarily up and down her spine.

"Mistress L'ir, are you all right?"

"Why do you ask?" she said through a choked voice.

"Because you've been staring at your timepiece for the last five minutes," Razurz added with a chuckle. Nomi hadn't realized she was so obvious, and silently cursed her lack of discretion.

"I…uh…well, to tell the truth, these things never interested me much. When I got elected the duty of doing this for Fehi, I couldn't refuse."

"It's a great honor to be a guest in the royal Naboo palace, let alone in the queen's presence."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I should have paid better attention. I guess I deserve your censure." Nomi's feeble attempt at an apology was only devised to keep him from figuring out her real identity. But he didn't seem at all concerned with that. His hand snaked around her waist with fierce insistence.

"Contrarily," Razurz rasped, "I am sure I can find other diversions that are equally pleasing to us both."

Her skin tingled at that thought. She was somewhat tempted to take him up on that offer, though she knew it would be bad for both of them. Especially with Fett and Dengar still hanging on the other end of the feed, waiting for some indication that she'd gotten the information she had set out for.

She turned slowly around, instinctively facing him. The more she glanced into those pale eyes, the more she lost her resolve.

"I…don't think I…"

Razurz silenced her with a mere stare, then jerked his head in the direction of a small hidden stairwell offshooting the main room of the palace. With as little interruption to the session taking place, Nomi crept out behind the Falleen, pushing her way through a crowd of people who had hung on the queen's every word.

It was only when she reached the door to Razurz's chamber that she realized what he had in store for her. She paused a moment before crossing the threshold, realizing that if she did, that would change everything for her. By doing that, she would bypass her grief for Gharon and her anger at Zed, leaving her completely vulnerable and open to this prince. But Nomi wanted to feel like a woman again, and being with Razurz offered her that opportunity.

She heard a crackle from the other end of the transceiver.

"Quit wasting time and playing games." Fett's voice sounded distinctly irritated.

"Give me time," Nomi whispered, careful not to alert Razurz to the fact that she was in correspondence with a bounty hunter that was merely using her as a decoy. She didn't want to allow Razurz the chance to sabotage those plans—and _her own_ chance of escape.

"I'm trying to get him to trust me first."

"Well don't. Trust won't get you anywhere."

"But guise and deception will?" she questioned.

There was a long pause on the other end of the comlink, punctuated by the sound of static.

"Yes," came the answer she had been expecting.

"You're wrong, and I'm going to show you," she said, breaking off the transmission.

She followed Razurz into the quarters the queen had reserved for high-ranking officials and nobility, a category that suited the Falleen twofold.

She excused herself and went to the 'fresher to clip off the holocam and transceiver. She took one last look at herself in the 'fresher mirror and took a steadying breath.

_Not this time, Fett,_ Nomi thought bitterly. _This is one affair you aren't interfering in._

Having carelessly disposed of the holocam and receiver in the waste receptacle, she returned to the room where Razurz awaited. He had shed the overlay of his sheer cloak to expose a black tunic that clung to the shape of his body. When he moved, it was with a catlike grace. She knew, if he wanted, he could be at her side in one blindingly fast movement.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"I'm fine," she said, crossing her legs as she sat down on one of the plush couches that accented the room. The queen had decorated the room with an eye for detail; everything, down to the light fixtures, seemed to complement the room perfectly.

"Are you sure? Here, drink this. I think you will like it."

He handed her a glass with a swirling green mixture. She contemplated it for a few moments before asking,

"What's in it?"

"It's a very old recipe. Taste it."

She did as he commanded, sipping a little at the liquid which formed a froth at the base of her lips. She guzzled the entire thing down only after she realized how thirsty she actually was good. Razurz stood by the window, looking incredibly pleased with her compliance.

"Mmm," Nomi said, "That was good."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

He stalked over to where she lay out on the couch, making a seat for himself beside her. Her head felt a little woozy; she probably wasn't processing the alien drink as well as she'd hoped. She was vaguely aware of his hand stroking through the mass of her dark hair, long nails exciting a shiver down her spine. She wondered what it would be like to have those nails dig into her skin as they rode the throes of passion…then quickly banished that dangerous thought.

"That's better. I don't like it when the hair is in your eyes."

That seemed the natural progression for the conversation to take; though Nomi partly felt that all of this was somehow very, very wrong. Razurz tickled his ear as he spoke. Nomi reached again for her glass, only to realize it was empty.

"Would you like more?" he asked, a subtle invitation apparent in that tone.

"Yes."

She had the nagging feeling that somewhere in the 'fresher, the comlink was emitting a soft glow to transmit an incoming message from Fett, but ignored it anyway. She was enjoying herself far too much to care about either two of the bounty hunters she had been traveling with…or her objective, whatever it was. It was becoming difficult to form a coherent thought…

She didn't know how it had happened that Razurz's lips were upon hers, crushing her in a kiss that tasted of wine. As he tilted her head sideways to gain full access to her mouth and the velvety recesses within, she found herself responding to the kiss with as much fervor as she could muster.

She felt himself lifting her up in his arms.

"I can't…I should. We need to talk," she said, remembering how she had been planning to interrogate him about Black Sun, and how that plan had gone horribly awry. Why hadn't Fett or Dengar just gone in, instead of exposing her to a creature they knew would be a potential threat to her self-control? The simple answer was that Fett and Dengar were too well known, even in Naboo, to safely gain access to a palace full of people who knew who they were.

"I should stop," she said again, though he silenced her with another kiss.

But Nomi felt all resolve caving; she didn't want to talk about the objective or the reason she had come here. She wanted to continue this pleasant little interlude with Razurz in the bedroom. He seemed to read the thought in her mind as he swung her up in both arms, striding with several powerful steps toward the bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed as though she weighed less than a feather, then began shedding his garments. Nomi watched in excitement as each bit of his green flesh was exposed, stripping away his outer robes to reveal a hard, toned body. All thoughts of Gharon and Zed seemed very far away now, leaving her completely open to entertain all sorts of fantasies involving the Falleen male.

He climbed over her, pinioning her beneath his body weight, when something shattered in the other room. Nomi's breath snagged in her throat as Razurz glanced over his shoulder.

"What was that?" she queried.

Razurz shook his head, but seemed adamant about getting back to business. Nomi shoved him off and sat up in the bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

"Please, go check. I'd feel safer."

He sneered at this, but did as she commanded anyway. He set about dressing quickly, to go see the cause of the crash. Nomi, momentarily freed from his spell, rummaged around in his cloaks for any sign of something useful. When her hand settled on another datapad, she scooped it up and stashed it in her robes, which she had likewise shed to conceal her theft.

Razurz returned a few minutes later, his eyes settling on her body, which was naked beneath the covers.

"I wanted to have the pleasure of undressing you myself, but I see you anticipated me."

Nomi motioned to the space of bed beside her that was left unoccupied by his absence. Razurz smirked and began walking toward her. Suddenly, the lights flickered and went dead, and what sounded like a scuffle ensued. A few lamps were shattered when a great, bulky body was tossed into it. The figure stumbled, while another—a more menacing one—advanced slowly upon it. There was the click of an uncharged blaster…and then silence. Nomi heard a grunt, followed by another punch, and another.

When the lights again came on, the bounty hunter was standing there, looking a little worse for wear. He had taken a few hits, but he wasn't breathing heavily, as far as she could see.

"Where did he go?" she stammered, momentarily freed from her enchantment.

"I seem to have scared him off for the moment. He ran before I had the chance to pursue him. It doesn't matter, though, I _will_ track him down." He said this with such absolute conviction that she had no just cause to disbelieve him.

She was aware for the first time that all she was wearing was a bed sheet—and a transparent bed sheet, at that. Fett's gaze grazed briefly over her as if to confirm her nakedness. She clutched it a little tighter to prevent him from seeing any further.

"I gave you explicit orders which you did not follow."

"I'm sorry. I…I don't know what came over me," she said, touching a hand to her rapidly clearing head. Razurz's effect on her seemed to have dissolved for the moment. "I guess an apology is in order…as well as a 'thank you.'"

"Don't thank me," Fett said flatly. "I came here when the feed was interrupted. If something had happened—"

"You might have to clean up my remains?" she finished for him.

"I might have to dispose of evidence linking you to me," he corrected her. Nomi was glad that he left the details of that unpleasant scenario pretty vague; she didn't want to think of the bounty hunter mopping up her remains like another dirty little secret he was trying to stuff in his already brimming-full closet full of skeletons.

"Well, then it just works out for you that I'm alive, doesn't it?" she asked in irritation.

"It is to my advantage that you are alive, yes." His helmeted gaze cased the room before returning to her. "Though I can't say we are any the better for it. The negotiations _did not_ go as planned."

Nomi crossed both arms over her chest in indignation. Fett might as well have left her there to die, for all he cared.

"This little mission isn't a complete failure. I _did _get this."

She produced the datapad that she had wrapped up in her discarded clothes. Fett took one look at it and returned his gaze to her heated form.

"This mission may not have been a complete failure after all." He waved the datapad in his hand. "When we return to Slave 1, I will enter this into the computer and see what's so important on it that Razurz carries it around in his robes."

"And what do we do until our meeting with Loboh?"

"Hang tight. I have a few other loose ends to clean up before I can make the trade," Fett said. "I want to get the whole story before I hand over what he wants. There may be more to this than there seems. More than he—or anyone—is letting on."

Nomi knew that by 'anyone,' he meant namely her. But he did not have time to explain that comment to her.

"Get dressed," he ordered her. "No doubt Razurz is alerting the sentinels to the fact that he's had a visit from an attacker in his quarters. And from what I'd judge, they are on their way to inspect the room."

"All right."

Fett turned his helmeted gaze away as she promptly dressed, though she couldn't be sure if he actually wasn't looking at her or not. She'd had to trust him this once, because they didn't have time to spare for little courtesies.

Once she had finished, she took a wide look around the quarters, which had, but a moment ago, looked enticing and seductive to her, largely due to Razurz's presence in it. She shrugged casually.

"Where are we going? We can't sneak past those guards."

"I've got another idea," Fett said, his arm grabbing her around the waist as he pulled her toward him. They stood over the small balcony overlooking the palace grounds. Nomi wondered what exactly he was doing this close to her. She wondered if he could feel her heart thrumming away in her chest at an unnatural speed—or if he had seen her eyelids flicker briefly with distrust. This was put to rest as he ignited his jetpack, flying them both in an arc over the sky. It was a perfectly orchestrated move that had confounded even Nomi, who was too scared to think of creative ways to avoid the impending danger. Their brief flight ended when Fett touched ground and commanded Nomi to keep a steady pace for the docking bay.

She didn't have time to clear her mind of its many muddled thoughts. All she could think to do was run…hard.


	9. A Hasty Retreat

Nomi took the steps to the turbolift two at a time—then waited impatiently as it spun upward through layers and layers of various apartments and domiciles that inhabited downtown Naboo. As she barged into the dingy apartment where she, Fett and Dengar had been staying for the last few days, she found the other bounty hunter lounging out on his bed, the disconnected transceiver end still in his one hand.

"Get packing," she informed him without hesitation. Dengar was immediately alert at her sudden intrusion, sitting stark upright in the bed as he surveyed her angrily. If he weren't so lazy, he probably would have been pacing around to alleviate some of his nervous energy.

"We've got one _hell_ of a problem on our hands."

"It _better_ be good," Dengar said, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, "to disturb my sleep. After your whole transmission fiasco, I thought Fett was gonna kill us both."

She nervously brushed a strand of hair back from her eyes as she continued to listen to his rant. She thought that if she had been in her own clothes, instead of this ridiculous dress, she might be able to better face his mindless accusations.

"Boy, you've _really_ done it this time…disrupting the transmission like that. Fett's gone crazy."

Nomi paused a moment before delving through the small armoire where she had stored a few possessions.

"He _said_ that?"

"In so many words."

Fett was not a man accustomed to using many words, but Dengar had gathered this much from his body language—no matter how well he tried to mask it.

Dengar still sat, immobile.

"Oh, for Force's sake, don't just sit there! Do what I say for once!" she commanded him, with both hands on her hips. "We need to be down at the docking pad _now_—at Slave 1! I think I blew our cover."

"There's a surprise," Dengar said with an amiable grin. "Did you at least get us any info from your little meeting? Or did you just get a private show?"

She put both hands on her hips to adopt a more imposing stance, and placed herself in his line of view.

"You spend all day thinking that up?"

"No," Dengar said with a shrug, "Only the time it took for you to hit the sheets with ol' Razurz."

She resisted the urge to grab the pillow from behind his head and beat him with it, then turned back to her packing.

"It's worse than that. If anything, out recent altercation alerted Black Sun to our presence. We need to get offworld, and _fast_," Nomi informed him, throwing her minute amount of personal possessions into a small sack as quickly as she could. Dengar just looked at her, stretched out across his bed with both hands laced across his bulging paunch.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, sister. I'm staying right here until Fett gets back."

"Trust me," she said, giving him a meaningful stare over her shoulder, "You _don't_ want to hang around here."

_Though you're more than welcome to_, she added in her mind, as an afterthought. The thought of enduring much more of Dengar's presence was almost as excruciating as the thought of returning to the close, cramped quarters of Slave 1, in which she had spent an overabundant amount of time.

"Fine," Dengar said, slinging a small pack over his shoulder, as well as holstering his blaster before following her out of the apartment and down to the docking bay. Dengar pulled back the camo netting that draped over the outer hull of the Slave 1; it didn't look like it had been tampered with in the time it had been there, but only time would tell. Dengar flipped a few cred chits in the direction of the attendant, and boarded the ship with Nomi in tow.

When they were safely inside, Nomi threw aside her belongings and went up to the control panel. Dengar fired up Slave 1's engines to prepare for Fett's arrival. He commed the other hunter a few times to find out where he was and ask him to hurry back to the ship. They didn't have to wait long for that request to be fulfilled.

The door slid open with a quick swish of hissing air, as the bounty hunter strode in, his blastech rifle slung over one shoulder. Fett shoved the other hunter out of his seat of command, and spun Slave 1 into the sequence for liftoff that would send them, spinning, into the galaxy. His gloved hands methodically worked the dials, then punched in a few coordinates to the navicomputer. He was careful not to expose their destination to the others, however, by swiveling around his seat as Nomi tried to crane her neck forward to read the information over his shoulder.

"Where are we headed?"

"I'll tell you when we get there. For now, you do not need to know that information," Fett said.

"What about those Black Sun operatives?" Nomi suddenly thought to ask. They were the reason they had been grounded in the first place, and blasting their way into space wasn't exactly the epitome of discretion. The Slave 1 was so notorious in its design and architecture that a pilot could have spotted and identified it point-blank without having to transmit its access code.

"We take our chances," Fett said. "Naboo's too dangerous a place to remain. Razurz is onto us now."

"Well, he wouldn't have been if you hadn't tumbled into _our_ room…" The word slipped out of Nomi's mouth without any forethought, though she realized the error after scarcely having spoken it.

"I don't need an invitation," Fett told her, "It isn't a party; it's business. You acted in full affront of my orders."

Dengar's normally blank face adopted a more seductive grin.

"I think I understand _why_. That prince…has quite an effect on the ladies. Makes 'em weak, and feeble. You think, Fett, that maybe she didn't want us to see what was goin' on in that room?"

Fett was silent a minute as he worked the controls, swiveling his chair around to look out the transparisteel viewport. At the far edge of his line of view, a few ships were amassing.

"That is not my concern. What _does_ concern me is those incoming fighters."

"Give it a wide berth!" Dengar ordered, judging by the distance.

"Quiet," Fett snapped in a flat voice. He always demanded complete and absolute silence while he worked, and usually it paid off in the end, so Nomi and Dengar fell accordingly silent to allow him time to plot an escape. A modicum of peace filled the ship's cockpit, until it was again broken by the beeping of the ship's navicomputer, into which Fett had input several coordinates to their next point. They couldn't make the jump to hyperspace until they were past the fighter squadron, however, which stood in their path.

He pushed the engines into overdrive, and headed straight for the other ship, curving the Slave 1 into a dip at the last minute before the two ships would have crashed. Fett then made the jump to hyperspace. From here on, it would be smooth sailing.

The near miss had been enough to startle Nomi, who fell back against the far wall of the cockpit, a hand clutched to her breast. Even Dengar looked a little pale; the color had drained from his face when he watched them narrowly miss being hit in a head-on collision.

"You know," he said, "After all these months of partnering with you, I _still_ can't get used to your flying."

"You won't have to for much longer," Fett said, abandoning his seat to climb the small ladder down into the cargo hold. Nomi watched as he took out the datapad she had stolen from Razurz and input it into the computer's main terminal. The cockpit was cramped, but Fett had outfitted the ship with a nice-sized screen in the lower quarters, despite its inaccessibility. Nomi watched as a log of information flitted up on the screen, and Fett's palm scrolled through the lists.

Dengar sat at the controls while they buzzed through infinite miles of blue-black space, the force of it shaking the ship's metal bulkheads and cargo crates as though they were spring-loaded.

Nomi followed Fett down the short ladder into the cargo hold, where she had spent a good deal of time holed up in the holding cell. Only this time, she didn't enter it as a prisoner, but as a partner of sorts. Fett hadn't threatened to slap another pair of binders on her or to even lock her up for her disobedience. She had done nothing to earn it, but Fett was almost—growing comfortable with her, if not open and trusting. That was something she knew he would never be. But none of that seemed to matter. She was finally enjoying a small measure of civility from him, though she didn't know how long it would last.

"Find anything interesting?" she asked, peering over his shoulder. He turned slightly to block her clear line of vision, and tapped a stray key to minimize the screen.

"It's all here. Every last detail, down to the arrangements Razurz made for the disposing of Xizor's corpse in an unmarked grave on Tatooine. All the key players are listed—who's going to carry out the murder, the members of Black Sun that were involved, as well as the rest who took bribes to cover up the conspiracy. Razurz appears to have been extremely thorough in tapping all his contacts. It's an elaborate and cleverly devised scheme," Fett said, with a tinge of admiration in his otherwise flat voice. Nomi knew he could recognize the value of a good scheme when he saw one.

"But there's just one problem."

Nomi raised an inquisitive eyebrow, positioning herself closer to him.

"And what's that?"

Fett, secure with her proximity to him, turned and reopened the log of information he had been looking at. Nomi wondered what caused him to let down his guard for the first real time since they'd been together—normally, he wouldn't have blinked twice before restricting her access to certain, important documents. But perhaps he understood that she was as clueless as Dengar when it came to the details of their search; even given her relationship to the now-deceased Gharon. Still, she couldn't help but wonder why he was setting himself up for a potential fall. Any amount of information was dangerous, especially in the wrong hands—and Nomi didn't want to be forced by a third party to betray Fett's confidences. That was always a fear, lurking ever present at the back of her mind. She didn't know why she should care so much—after all, Fett _had_ captured her and treated her with less kindness than a Hutt. He was ruthless and ambitious, and she owed him no allegiance. But somehow, her partnership with both Fett and Dengar made her feel partially indebted to them both. She just didn't know how, yet.

"He just happens to be carrying this with him?" Fett asked aloud. His voice was predatory as he nodded toward the information on the screen. "That's stupid…even for a Falleen. There _has_ to be something more at work here."

Nomi shrugged.

"Can't you just take anything at face-value? Maybe he _really_ did slip up. So, carrying around incriminating evidence wasn't such a great idea, yeah, but nobody's perfect—not even you, Fett."

She knew how stupid it sounded before the words left her mouth. At least he would have no doubts about her lack of involvement in the scheme now.

"You are a fool," he said calmly. "Taking things at face-value hasn't kept me alive this long."

He retrieved the information from the data port, putting it into the small cargo pouch attached to his belt.

"I need to investigate further before I make any decisions."

She nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like a good idea. Loboh might have an agenda."

She didn't know why she cared whether he did or not, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the time. But there was something far more pressing on her mind…

Fett tapped out a couple of keys. Nomi cleared her throat loudly.

"Look, I didn't mean to mess up your plans for the interrogation. I mean…I know I'm lucky to even be alive after an encounter of that kind."

His t-shaped helmet turned visibly in her direction. Fett was menacingly close to her, making her take a step back from him to put some distance between them both.

"It has nothing to do with luck."

"I didn't _do_ anything with him, if that's what you think," Nomi said quietly.

"The state I found you in would suggest otherwise."

"Well, I…" Nomi's voice trailed off, pitifully small. The way Fett was silently staring at her made her lose her courage to explain her actions. He seemed to take no note of this as he said,

"I'll study this new item. We've got a long flight ahead and a limited time to make sense of this data."

"And me?" Nomi asked in exasperation. She couldn't quite figure out this knew kindness Fett was showing her—if she could even _call_ it kindness. She supposed she could press him further, by asking him to release her of all debts she owed him. "If you'll have no more need for me why can't I just…"

"_No_. You wait here," Fett said, anticipating the direction of her thoughts. He climbed back up the ladder into the cockpit, so that all Nomi heard was his retreating voice. "I have no more need of you now."

"Fine," she said, tearing off the heavy necklace and hair ornaments when she realized her guise was no longer needed. She entered the 'fresher to wipe off the remaining lipstick, pausing a while to inspect the shape of her full, bitten lips. Lips that, in some small way, still longed for the kiss of Razurz. Whatever it was, she was shaken to the core by the strength of her need for human contact—a call that Razurz had willingly answered. Their brief rapport had only been interrupted once Fett arrived on the scene.

Fett…he was slippery, indeed. And his thoughts were difficult to get a handle on. She supposed he liked it that way, so other sentients wouldn't have the upper hand on him. He made it so that he was in full possession of the power that he so freely enjoyed. It gave him a psychological advantage in dealing with his equally dangerous opponents, as well as inducing fear into the hearts of those he stalked. That was why he was so famous—he feared nothing. But Nomi had once been told, back on her homeworld in Ndeki, that a man who feared nothing also loved nothing. Fett could certainly be said to be one such man.


	10. A Moment Alone

After they made the jump to hyperspace, the squadron did not have the capacity to follow in pursuit of their tiny vessel. Fett had cloistered himself in some quiet place to mull over the details of Razurz's datapad, while Dengar piloted the ship. Nomi assumed her place in the co-pilot's chair because it was much better than sleeping in the dank holding cell all night.

She blinked twice, trying to keep the weight of her lids from dropping. It was growing close to 24 standard hours in which she had been awake, but she refused to leave the chair and walk through the narrow crawl space into the prisoner's quarters. Dengar looked over his shoulder at her a few times, obviously aware that she was fading fast.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" he asked.

She blinked twice then sat up straighter to keep her head from nodding.

"No. I want to be awake if anything happens."

Dengar's gaze returned to the viewport; occasionally a freighter or two whizzed by, but nothing was particularly intriguing about the view.

"You won't be much help if you can't keep your eyes open…uh not that I _care_ about you or anything…"

Nomi nodded at this.

"Of course not. Neither you nor Fett does, and I can honestly say the feeling's mutual. There isn't a person—or should I say, two people—I think I like less in the galaxy."

Dengar smiled.

"Good. So we, uh, got an understanding then? Get some sleep."

She decided that Dengar was right—for once. She would be no good to them if she were overtired in the heat of battle. She needed to be sharp and alert, so it looked like her best bet would be crawling back into the holding cell for one final nap until they reached wherever it was they were headed.

Nomi climbed the ladder down into the ship's metal carriage. It was always cold in the holding cell, and tonight was no exception. She snuggled up in the small, tattered blanket that Fett had provided for his prisoners' use, and shut her eyes for some much-needed rest.

She had scarcely closed her eyes when an alarm sounded, stirring her and causing Fett to emerge from some secret compartment he had designed just for his personal use.

"Sorry," Dengar said apologetically from the cockpit, "It was an accident."

"Fool," Fett said scathingly, "Watch what you touch."

She thought he would flip around on his heel and turn right into the open door of the room from which he had just emerged, where soft light was spilling out on the floor. Instead, his helmeted gaze turned in her direction. She knew it was one of the few times she had managed to surprise a man like Fett, who was not given to surprises; he didn't like them or welcome them. But the sight of her sitting readily in the holding cell must have certainly thrown him for a loop.

"Comfortable?" he queried flatly. She smiled, meeting his indifference with as much arrogance as she could muster.

"Tremendously. I've not slept as peacefully anywhere else. You know, Fett, you really should start renting this out as a room. I'm sure you could make a quick cred or two."

"Your sarcasm is pointless," Fett said. "Come here, there is something I want to show you."

_Uh oh_, Nomi thought worriedly. She wondered if what he wanted to show her was the tail end of a gun before discharging it in her face. But she had a feeling somehow that Fett wasn't going to betray her like that; at least not openly. If Fett were going to betray her, it would be something more elaborately devised than taking her into a cold, sterile room and acting as executioner.

She followed him into the little room, and was surprised to find a space just big enough for two people. Fett had set up a desk and a computer connected to the ship's navicomputer, from which he could input and output data just as easily as if he had been sitting in the pilot's seat. Such a thing could prove useful on long flights such as these, when Fett tired of piloting the ship himself and had set the controls to autopilot. The room functioned as an office and a sometime bedroom, possibly offering him a mild amount of comfort while in transit.

Fett was scrolling through a list of information, the computer's artificial light glowing across his helmet and tinted visor. He didn't offer her a seat, but Nomi didn't expect an invitation. She sat down beside him anyway, careful not to let her leg brush against his when they were this close. The quarters were intimately cramped, forcing her to push closer to him anyway.

"Here," he said, when his finger stopped scrolling. He motioned to a small line of Galactic Basic type printed across the page.

Nomi squinted her eyes to try and read in the dark. It read _'Extract point to Juri Loboh. Loboh will bring X. corpse to rendezvous point on Tatooine, as per agreement.'_

Nomi's head was throbbing so loudly she couldn't process the information. The new turn of events seemed like nothing out of the ordinary to her.

"So? That's not so unusual. He's involved. That would explain why Juri Loboh was so intent on getting hold of Gharon's—" She paused a moment and licked her lips. "—my husband's datapad."

Gharon was growing more a stranger to her with each day that passed. She forced herself to still even consider him her husband, out of respect. She supposed that saying the words was like a mechanical response; something she had been trained to do but never truly believed. Now that he was dead, she believed them even less.

"Use your brain," Fett said, "Loboh has some other vested interest in this. When he sent out the bounty on your husband, he never claimed to have any involvement with a plot to depose a Falleen prince…especially a high-ranking one such as Xizor. I made a mistake in implicating you, when it should have been Loboh was implicated."

She nodded pleasantly at him. He had a way of paying her compliments that didn't make them sound anything like a compliment, but it was the best she could get from one as aloof as him.

"Thank you," she said, feeling as though an immense burden had been lifted off her shoulders.

He ignored her, glancing down at the artillery strapped to his wrist, and to the small comlink.

"I think it's high time we pay Loboh a visit. I'm sure his business is concluded by now."

Nomi's eyes settled on his wrist, which sported a number of bizarre-looking weapons; ones she had never before seen and others whose names she couldn't pronounce. It looked like it'd take a great deal of cleverness just to master the sheer number of weapons strapped to his wrist. And Fett was nothing if not clever. She had to continually remind herself to be careful around him. She never knew if she was the one being played.

"You calling him now?"

Fett's helmeted gaze drifted briefly up at her, as though he were annoyed with her level of interest, or the fact that she might be questioning his methods.

"No. I have an old acquaintance we are supposed to be meeting near here. I called ahead to inform him of our arrival."

"So _that's_ the big secret?" she asked.

"No secret," Fett said, retaining his seat, "Just personal information. You don't need to know beforehand."

"Of course. I _forgot_ that's how it works."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, followed by a loud groan of the ship in reply to one of Dengar's more daring maneuvers. She had been about to get up, when the sound of Fett's voice made her pause in her tracks.

"I was there that night. At Chalmun's cantina."

She gently lowered herself back into her seat, mesmerized by this sudden confession—but even more so by the sound of his voice. Despite its metallic tone, it had a definite lure.

"I saw the whole thing go down. And I know you were accompanying your husband on the deal. I saw it for myself."

"And you also saw that I had nothing to do with it, right?" Nomi asked eagerly, wanting his approval.

"_That_ I couldn't be sure of," Fett said. "I didn't see enough to either confirm or deny my suspicions. But what I _did_ see gave me reason enough to suspect you of duping me."

She crossed both arms over her chest to feel more protected. She preferred it when he didn't look at her as he spoke.

"You know me now, you _know_ I'm incapable of such deception."

Fett was silent a long time as he considered what he said.

"More than capable. But inculpable. I am not saying that the culpability lies fully with Loboh, but I will soon find out. I have my methods…"

She thought about saying something to challenge that statement, then thought the better of it. Protesting that she was a big, mean bounty hunter would only give Fett more cause for suspicion, when she already felt like she had earned some of his trust. She decided to play along with whatever due respect he was going to pay her.

"I'll go tell Dengar we're getting ready to dock."

She put her hand on the table to steady herself as she rose from her chair, but her fingers brushed Fett's gloved ones. She drew her hand back sharply, scarcely registering that the illicit touch had taken place. If she hadn't noticed—then, she hoped, neither would Fett.

She went up to the cockpit, her head still reeling with thoughts of what had just happened. She felt a little giddiness in her step and dizziness cloud her vision. Fett's hand, underneath the glove, had been emanating with warmth. She tried to banish these thoughts from entering her head, but they were growing continually harder to dismiss with Fett's continued presence in her life. The more they traveled together, the more she looked to him to fill the void of safety and security left by Gharon. The very man who had threatened to kill her had also become a protector, of sorts.

She slumped down into the co-pilot's seat.

"You talk to our friend back there?" Dengar asked.

"A little. He says we should get ready to dock sometime soon."

"Dock? What's going on?"

Nomi relaxed her weary bones a little in the chair, though it was hardly comfortable. The holding cell's bed was looking better and better by the minute.

"We're going to have some kind of meeting, I guess. You know Fett…he's kind of vague on the details."

Dengar chortled in reply.

"Sister, you've got _no_ idea."

Fett's voice came over the intercom to transmit the next coordinates to Dengar. As soon as Dengar had input them into the ship's navicomputer, they were on their way to the rendezvous point, preparing to meet with Fett's mysterious acquaintance.


	11. The Plan Backfires

Fett was at the computer terminal, issuing the navicomputer a command to lock transfer hatchways with an incoming ship, piloted by a man called Suhluk. The hunt saboteur strode in with an impressed look, casing the place. Dengar saw him and nearly toppled out of his chair.

"You brought in a hunt saboteur for this job? What are you, _crazy_?"

"It is a necessity that I have a backup plan, in case Loboh decides to renege on his deal," Fett informed him, going up to greet the other hunter. Suhluk smiled and propped up one huge gun over his shoulder, swaggering forward with undeniable self-confidence. He had a generous chin and dark eyes that looked hollowed from a lack of sleep. Even his gait was proud and purposeful. It sickened Nomi when he gave her a little wink.

"So, Fett, I got your message. What's this 'pressing matter' that you want me to deal with?" he asked loudly, looking quite pleased with himself.

"There is a hunt I would like you to sabotage. One we're going into."

Suhluk strode right past him and seated himself comfortably in the co-pilot's seat, much to Fett's annoyance.

"Hah, this is rich! The great Boba Fett calling _me_ for a job."

Fett was less than impressed with Suhluk's cocky behavior, from the time he had entered the ship to his present comfortable stance in the co-pilot's seat.

"If you're going to not be serious about this, then you can leave."

"I think you misunderstood me, Fett. I'm just praising the day you came to _me_ for help."

"Don't get used to it."

"With barbs like that, I might just be disinclined to help you."

Suhluk crossed both arms expectantly, but Fett just ignored him.

"This job pays well. Should be more than enough to fix up that trash bucket of a ship you have out there."

Fett's hand indicated the ship hovering just beyond the range of the viewport. The words hit their intended mark, and Suhluk tensed visibly, bristling with indignation. Nomi knew it was Fett's way of challenging him, and it worked.

"Just tell me the time and place and name your fee," Suhluk said.

"Juri Loboh," Fett said, drawing up a diagram of information on the ship's navicomputer. "I have a little meeting planned with him in another standard hour."

"Ain't _he_ the lucky one," Suhluk quipped. "Not many that'd be willing to meet with you, Fett."

"I have good reason to believe Loboh may try and pull a fast one over us. If he does, you will…"

"Be waiting in the wings, like I always do," Suhluk volunteered. Fett nodded.

"Good. We are understood?"

"As clear as crystal," Suhluk said jauntily. After the hunt saboteur had left the cockpit, Fett gave Dengar very clear instructions on how to contact Loboh for the supposed trade that was going to take place—when in reality, all Fett wanted was information.

"How can you be sure he won't betray us the first chance he gets?" Nomi asked as Fett rummaged through a weapons cache in the back of the ship.

"Because I'm not paying him till his job's done. Suhluk was a little sour about that detail, but he'll stick around if he knows what's good for him."

Nomi nodded, perching against the doorframe as she watched Fett begin stripping his weapons. His hands worked with quick and meticulous ease, as though he had done this a hundred times before.

"You look like you're equipping for a war."

"Loboh's not above using force to get what he wants. And neither am I."

"Right," she said, though her throat had gone dry and her voice sounded rather hollow.

He looked up from what he was doing to gaze at her. It bothered her that she couldn't see what he was thinking like he could read her features—she wanted nothing more than to remove his helmet and see if the face beneath was as hardened and scarred as the one he projected.

"Why am I still here, Fett?" Her hand skimmed the doorframe, feeling all the metal fastenings. "You said yourself that you had no more use for me, so why do you keep me here like a prisoner?"

"It's not for the pleasure of your charming company, I can assure you." The attempted joke fell flat on her. It had downright hurt.

"I just don't understand."

"I already told you that you still are useful to me."

"I don't see how. I…I'm useless…"

"That's for _me_ to decide," he said irritably, and she knew she had overstayed her welcome. Trying to persuade Fett to tell her any of his methods was growing more difficult the more she pressed him. So she left him alone to his own devices.

By mid-day, Dengar had set a trajectory for somewhere in the Naboo system. Nomi lay in the holding cell, trying for some shut-eye.

"There he is," Fett noted, up in the pilot's seat.

The ship was momentarily rocked by a bright volley of laserfire that rained down on the main hull. Nomi was thrown from her bed and hit the metal bars square on the forehead. Fett cursed loudly at the fact that Loboh had just unknowingly unloaded his heavy artillery on the galaxy's most fearsome bounty hunter.

Fett pushed the engines to their maximum, running the ship head-on. When they were within a few meters of the other ship's cockpit, Nomi could see the frightened face of Loboh. At the last possible minute, Fett brought the Slave 1 upward in a sharp arc, nearly grazing the surface. Dengar, who had both hands conveniently clamped down to the arm holds on either side of him, breathed a sigh of relief.

"You trying to get us killed?"

Fett inclined his head in Dengar's direction.

"It would be a shame for you if I did."

Dengar shook his head, his hair tangled in a sweaty mass beneath his mask.

Fett attempted to get a connection with the ship sitting in the perimeter of his view. After a few unsuccessful tries, the light turned red, indicating an incoming frequency.

"I'm sorry, Fett, I didn't know it was you," the voice said, sounding half-apologetic on the other end of the line. "Though after a stunt like that, I think it's _you_ who should be apologizing to _me_."

Fett's finger paused a moment on the communicator. He chose his words very carefully.

"And that'd explain why you opened fire on me?"

"Oh, come now, Fett. You know I've grown a little…ah…paranoid these days. With all those bounty hunters out to find that datapad, I've been attacked more than once. Let's pull together so we can talk face-to-face instead of all this mucking about."

Fett cut the transmission.

"I don't like it," said Dengar decisively.

"No, but we have no other alternative."

Dengar threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"The guy just tried to waste us!"

"That may be so, but he also has some answers about the politics of Razurz's brainless scheme, which is exactly what I intend to find out."

"Suit yourself," Dengar muttered under his breath, when Fett was out of earshot.

Within the space of a few minutes, Fett had extended the bridge to permit Loboh entry. He came aboard Slave 1 and climbed immediately into the cockpit.

"Well, Fett, I got your transmission. What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"The trade. I've got what you want," Fett said.

"So I see," Loboh said, eyes flitting sideways to take note of the two datapads poised upon the pilot's chair. In one swift movement, he had drawn his blaster, training it on Nomi long enough to swipe both the datapads from under his nose. He then swung his arm around Nomi's neck, jerking her chin upright. Her neck was stung by the cool metal of the blaster. She could feel her pulse echoing through the hollow base as he held her there, pinned thus.

"And I'm taking both these without paying the sum we agreed upon."

"Careful," Fett said dangerously. "I don't like being stolen from."

"And I'm sure you don't like watching your companions be murdered before your eyes."

Fett was silent for a long moment.

"Their lives matter nothing to me."

Nomi's heart sunk down to the pit of her stomach and back up in her throat as she went through the motions: fear, grief, and finally, regret. She regretted the fact that Fett said those words even more than the fact her life was about to end.

"I am doubtless they would say the same about you. But by all means, if you wish to watch her die, step forward."

He held the blaster to her head, his meaty arm wrapped around her throat. He quickly pocketed both of the datapads and smiled at the bounty hunters.

"Really, Fett, it's a little careless to leave your merchandise lying around like that. Didn't think of you as the type who would learn that lesson _this_ late in the game."

"Why are you doing this?" Nomi asked, her vision blearing with the tears that came of having her oxygen slowly cut off.

"Why?" Loboh asked with a laugh. "Use your head."

"I sent the bounty hunter Zed Recner to kill Gharon and her, and bring back the datapad. Imagine my surprise when you returned my call with a message that you found her, sans datapad."

"It was you!" Nomi said furiously.

"Don't look so surprised, Miss Rhendel. Your husband was in possession of a valuable article of mine, which, if exposed, would carry heavy consequences for me. I sent Recner out to retrieve it. While I don't approve of his methods, I did what was necessary to recover my property."

She thought back to the whole charade he had put up of inquiring into the origin of her bruise-marks, when he knew full well already that they had come from Recner.

Nomi shrugged.

"What'd this all have to do with my husband and I? Was he trying to get hold of the datapad to destroy the evidence for you?"

"You really don't know?" he asked with a laugh. "My dear Miss Rhendel, Gharon was involved in the plot to depose Xizor.

"What?" she blurted, scarcely aware of how loud her voice sounded.

"Xizor had recently tied up the Ndeki trade routes with Black Sun operatives, I'm sure you're aware."

"Yes, but…Gharon never…_never_…"

Loboh's eyes narrowed almost pitiably at Nomi.

"It seems you don't know your husband half as well as you think." His hand waved the two datapads. "This evidence—the first belonging to your husband, the second to Razurz, which you thankfully helped me locate—would have incriminated me. Gharon knew this, and he was intending to blackmail me with it."

"Not Gharon…" she said, her voice scarcely higher than a whisper. She felt as though an invisible hand had closed around her throat, cutting off her air supply. Loboh smiled cruelly as he continued with his story.

"We had a deal, at one point. Then, our deal went sour. If you had conducted a thorough search on it, you would have found your husband's name glaringly located in the contents of the datapad. Gharon planned to specifically alter the contents of the datapad, to erase whatever involvement he had in the whole plot. Then, once he had wiped his hands clean of the matter, he would publicly expose the scheme."

"But," Nomi said, wrinkling her brow in confusion, "If it is as you say, then why would he go to Xizor with evidence of a plot that he himself helped to fabricate? Black Sun's syndicate is enough to rival the Empire itself. My husband wouldn't be so bold as to challenge their authority."

"Once the data was altered, he'd be cleared of any suspicion," Loboh explained, "And by that time, Gharon decided it was better to have Xizor as a friend than an enemy. Though his loyalties were quite disputable, he tried to get into the good graces of the prince. Guess he figured that if Xizor saw he was trustworthy enough to bring this scheme to his attention he would lift the Ndeki trade ban. Can't say I blame him for trying. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there."

Fett and Dengar had both been silent while they digested this new turn of events. However, Fett spoke very slowly, enunciating every word now that Loboh had finished his speech.

"You will hand over those datapads to me, or there won't be enough pieces left of you to enjoy what remains of your miserable life," Fett said flatly through the helmet. Loboh seemed amused and entertained by this proposition, as if he almost welcomed the idea of taking on the bounty hunter. Nomi almost wished Fett had kept his mouth shut, instead of baiting him.

"Fett, my, but you are remiss in hospitality!" Loboh said. "I came here, explained myself completely to you and the most you can give me is a threat? I answered all of your questions. Now, I have a few of my own."

"They better be quick," Fett said, his hand on his blaster. Loboh shook his head, tightening his arm around Nomi's throat.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Fett. You don't want to complicate things in front of Miss Rhendel, do you?"

For once, Fett let his hand drop from the blaster, obeying the hidden command. Nomi was shocked to see the bounty hunter put in his place at last. It was probably just another front for what he was planning to do—have Suhluk perform a quick sabotage and rescue. Her eyes continually flitted around the ship's compartment. Where was Suhluk? If he _was_ near, he certainly wasn't announcing his presence.

"I want to know why you're still so interested in this datapad. It doesn't involve you."

"It's a potential source of profit," Fett said mechanically.

"And her?" Loboh let his hand run through Nomi's silky hair, which was bundled in a tight topknot. "She's very pretty, Fett. But you've come an awful long way here for nothing, if what you want is to help her. It's not like you to be so tenderhearted. Unless…you've developed some other interest in this female other than just business."

"Guess again," he said, his thumb balanced covertly on the blaster's trigger. "She's a key witness to that night's events, and too valuable to simply let go."

Loboh's mouth quirked at the corner.

"Always thinking with your head, Fett. That's what I like about you." He inched closer to the door of the transfer hatchway, with his hand carefully clamped around Nomi's shoulders. "But I'm afraid you're not clever enough this time."

"Don't," Fett said, taking a single step forward. Loboh aimed the blaster over Fett's heart, knowing the thin chestplate he wore wouldn't be enough to deflect one well-placed shot.

"Get back. Back I say!"

Fett didn't stand back, nor did he move forward. He simply stood rooted to the same place he was now, carefully watching the events unfold before him. Nomi closed her eyes as Loboh dragged her through the ship's transfer hatchway and into his foul-smelling ship where he was greeted by an entourage.

"Take her, quickly, and go! Fire up the engines!"

She felt herself being passed through a few pairs of hands, but wasn't totally aware of her surroundings. The next thing she knew, she was being laid down in a bed when she finally lost consciousness. The last thought she remembered before fainting was that Suhluk hadn't responded to Fett's call or even attempted to break up the escape in any way. So much for hunt saboteurs.


	12. Under Attack

When she woke, a Gand bounty hunter was standing over her. He had an elaborate breathing mask that filtered methane gas into his lungs, which he was sucking off deeply. He was looking at her with one of his many pairs of eyes, but she couldn't figure out why. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had hit her head one too many times for this all to be real…

"Who are you?" she asked, sitting up on a small pallet. Her head felt like a ronto had just run over it, and she knew she'd be sporting a nasty bruise, if not worse. But she had bigger problems than her appearance to worry about. As far as she could tell, she was still on Loboh's ship. The Gand's smug smile seemed to confirm that fact.

"Var Mesha," the creature replied in Gand. _Of course_. The bounty hunter proscribed for the dirty job of assassinating Xizor. It figures she would find him on the ship with Loboh. They were probably spiriting her away to the Falleen homeworld now, to offer her up as some kind of proof of the datapad's authenticity.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, looking up at the creature with hatred in her eyes. She doubted that he understood much of what she was saying, but it was therapeutic to just vent all her frustrations on whoever was near at the moment. Which just happened to be this little funny-looking creature with three pairs of eyes. "I have _nothing_ to tell you, so you can forget about finding new and painful ways to extracts whatever secrets you think I'm harboring."

The Gand narrowed his eyes slightly, trotting closer to tower over her, which, for a Gand, was impressive. She had never seen one so well equipped as Var Mesha; twin blaster pistols rode his hips, while a tight vest covered his shell-like abdomen. He was one of the oddest-looking creatures she had ever seen.

"Loboh pays good money. Gave me a good job," the creature replied in broken Basic. It was difficult to understand what he was saying because he accented each syllable in the wrong place, giving him an odd, exotic cadence to his voice.

"Look," Nomi said, holding both hands up, "I don't care what Loboh does. Let him go kill this high-and-mighty Prince Xizor for all I care. I'll stay silent. I promise."

The Gand moved menacingly in her path, settling the muzzle of his blaster comfortably between her eyes.

"Loboh plans to destroy evidence. And you."

"Look," Nomi said, trying to steady her quivering voice, "Maybe we can negotiate…you look like a bright, intelligent kind of creature. And I always like to strike deals with other hunters. Why don't we make a deal?"

The Gand cocked its head to the side, trying to unsuccessfully decipher the meaning of her words.

"…If I pay you twice what Loboh's offering, you drop me off on your next stop _after_ killing Xizor. Deal?"

The whole thing sounded seriously ridiculous, and was compounded by the fact that she had no more money. The best she could hope for was that Var Mesha fell for this little ploy and happened to drop her off before demanding payment, at which time she would either have to run for her life or bluff her way out of actually delivering on her deal.

The Gand was unconvinced and suspicious, but he kept the blaster trained right between her eyes. This could go bad, either way…

Suddenly, the tiny webbed hand retracted the blaster pistol and holstered it in one fluid movement. Nomi couldn't shake the feeling that no matter where she moved, at least one pair of the Gand's eyes were positioned on her at all times. Not that she was going to even _think_ of trying to pull a fast one on a creature that was, essentially, its _own_ holocam.

"Make good deal. Accept terms," the Gand replied, extending a hand to her.

But before the contract could be agreed upon by both parties, the emergency alarm sounded, alerting them both to the fact that there was someone approaching the ship. Or a few someones—by the sound of the harried voices in the other room. The Gand drew its hand—or what passed for a hand and fingers—sharply back from Nomi, retreating back into the main hold.

It frightened her to not know what was going on. It felt like they were in a warzone, from the hits they were taking on all sides. Several times, Nomi heard the rattling of metal against metal, or the shrill whistle of a misplaced shot streaking by. One shot hit the main reactor. Loboh had several onboard engineers trying to instantly repair the breach, which was proving considerably more difficult than expected. With the ship's occupants otherwise occupied, Nomi knew it was her one chance to free herself and attempt something incredibly stupid.

Nomi was just barely able to free her energy restraints. The power in the ship cut, leaving her to fumble around blindly in the darkness, feeling her way to the door where she slipped her palm over a switch to unlock it. She crawled through the bumpy darkness until she saw the viewport dead straight ahead.

_Thank the Force._

There was Suhluk's ship, veering precariously close to the cockpit as though he fully intended to hit them. For a moment she had seriously doubted Suhluk would come to their rescue, especially after the way in which he had acted around Boba Fett. But he surprised her—and very few people did anymore—into thinking that possibly, just possibly, there was some chance she might walk away unscathed from all this and escape with her life.

Her hands caught the doorframe, helping to balance herself on both feet. In the ensuing frenzy, no one noticed that she had escaped or that she was walking around the compartment, hiding behind cargo crates, walls and whatever else helped. She was just waiting for the moment when Suhluk would force entrance into the ship, giving her the opportunity to steal away with him and back to Slave 1.

_And then what?_ she thought desperately. Was it back to cavorting all around the galaxy with two bounty hunters she loathed and despised? If freedom was what she wanted, she had a better chance of earning that with a bribe paid to Var Mesha than by willingly returning to Boba Fett's ship.

_But I want to go back_, she thought shyly. Her two inner voices were at war with one another; on the one hand, she wanted desperately to see this journey through to the bitter end, but she was also cognizant of the fact that no good would come of it. Any and all possibilities she entertained involving Fett always ended in some unpleasant way.

Weighing her options under attack wasn't easy. The ship lurched sideways in response to a ram from Suhluk's tiny Headhunter. The ship was taking a real battering, and it was all Loboh's engineers could do to keep the engines from malfunctioning. Black smoke clouded the cockpit, tickling Nomi's nostrils. She began choking as her oxygen was momentarily depleted.

The door to the transfer hatchway was being cut open with some kind of energy tool. Several of the ship's engineers scattered, despite Loboh's threats and jeers. The door blew open in lightspeed, revealing two figures outlined in light. Nomi's vision was blurry, giving the two figures the distinct appearance of ghosts or wraiths scouring the ship for the dead. But when the noxious fumes retracted, she quickly regained consciousness and was shocked to see two familiar figures: Suhluk, and beside him, Boba Fett, a face she half-expected not to see ever again.

Loboh ran forward to try to prevent them from forcing their way in, but Fett looked through the crosshairs of his blaster and took one at him straight to the heart. Loboh paused in mid-air, deterred but not stopped by the first shot. Fett shot off another round of rapid fire that ricocheted off the metal bulkheads, catching Loboh in the back and the neck. He fell to the floor, his whole body heaving with the collapse. And then, he moved no more.

The smoke from the bounty hunter's gun evaporated. Nomi, satisfied that there was no other threat to her safety, dodged out from behind the wall to betray her hiding spot.

"Fett!"

"I told you nobody steals from me," he said dangerously.


	13. Safe at Last

The last of the escape pods had been ejected, leaving the cockpit free and clear of Loboh's engineers and trusted advisors.

Fett snatched Nomi out of the way of a falling beam, just in time to avoid being permanently flattened. Nomi smiled up at him in thanks, but said nothing as she reached for his hand and felt a strong arm lift her up from under her armpits.

"The datapads…" Fett said.

"No time," Nomi warned him. In response, he tossed her to Suhluk with instructions to escort her back on the small Headhunter waiting nearby. Nomi watched just before the pressurized doors closed, as Fett went around the room searching all the logs and documents for any indication that the datapads were still there.

Moments later, she and Suhluk were both comfortably seated in the Headhunter's cockpit, preparing for liftoff. The other ship was spitting up flames that threatened to torch them both. If Fett didn't show in the next few minutes—then they'd have to leave without him.

Nomi prayed that wouldn't be the case. Stranding another hunter on a burning ship rebelled against every moral code she had ever been indoctrinated with. Even so disagreeable a creature as Boba Fett deserved respect, and a fitting death at that. From the look plastered on Suhluk's face, though, she could tell he wasn't going to wait for him.

"I can't hold any longer, we need to go!" Suhluk said, scanning the ship's readouts. The entire sector was a burning wasteland, which threatened to engulf them in a torrent of fire and fury in the next few seconds. A fast and furious blow of fire poured out of the other ship's viewport, and Nomi knew from that Fett was still alive—perhaps destroying whatever was left of the ship so there would be no more pieces for Black Sun to analyze. Most of his clientele was through the Empire and the crime syndicate Black Sun, so it was not only poor taste to find Fett destroying evidence of an assassination cover-up but also bad for business. If they stumbled upon the ship, they would think Fett had some part in the elaborate plot, so all this was a necessary evil.

Nomi watched as a star streaked across her line of view, accenting the fiery beauty of the ship exploding before them.

"Just give him a little longer. He'll break through," Nomi said, holding out an arm to keep him from initiating the lockdown sequence. Suhluk gritted his teeth unpleasantly.

"You want to die, it's your choice. I'm not going with you."

"Coward," Nomi spat angrily. "No wonder Boba Fett's number one and you're still just some low-rate saboteur. It's because you turn tail at the first sign of danger!"

Suhluk glared at her, and for a moment she thought he would hit her. She downcast her eyes as though expecting it. But what came next wasn't the weight of his hand, but a cool chill pulsing up her spine, indicating that one of the doors was open. An alert came up on Suhluk's monitor to confirm this fact.

Nomi's head whipped around fast enough to cramp. There was Fett, standing in the small doorway. Nomi edged out of the tiny chair, allowing the bounty hunter space to sit.

"Let's get out of here," Suhluk announced as the ship's repulsor lifts kicked in, pushing them high above the flaming mass of a ship that was left over once Fett had detonated a timebomb in it.

Nomi crouched behind the two seats, noticing that Fett's armor looked worn and dented in a few places. She saw roughly abraded skin poking out from under his charred bodysuit. Other than that, there were no obvious signs of a struggle. When he got back to the ship, he would need tending—or those otherwise innocuous-looking wounds could prove sinister in the near future. Fett seemed to know this, too, from the way he positioned himself, keeping the weight off his wounds. He took a small vial from his pouch and emptied two drops of the sticky-looking substance onto the abrasions. It cleared them up, for the moment.

Nomi didn't want to seem too obvious by watching him, but Fett had sensed that she was and turned his head instinctively in her direction. She fumbled around for something to say—anything to take the heat off her.

"Any luck with the datapads?"

"Missing," Fett said. "I searched Loboh, but they were nowhere on him. Nor were they anyplace on the ship, as far as I could see. With any luck one of his engineers, knowing their value, stole them before shooting off into space."

"Fine, then it's about high time to think about orchestrating an escape from this burning dump before it drags us in too!" Suhluk said desperately. Boba Fett sat down in the seat beside him. The only remaining space in the tiny ship's compartment was for Nomi to stand. She didn't like the fact that the confining space pressed her closer to Fett, or the fact that she had to keep her hand poised on his chair's back to prevent herself from toppling over into his lap—which would have been a catastrophe."

"Talk of an escape is somewhat premature. There's still Var Mesha and Razurz to deal with. And without those datapads," Fett noted, his head inclined ever so slightly in Suhluk's direction.

Suhluk indicated the remains of the ship, which had been reduced to an incinerated smoldering trash pile with a suggestive shrug.

"Well, if _you_ want to go back in there to fish them out, then by all means. But I'm _not_ waiting around for you."

Fett's gaze veered sharply in his direction. For a moment, Nomi thought he was going to train a blaster on the other man, but he remained dutifully silent.

"Bring us back to Slave 1."

Suhluk followed his instructions carefully, giving Fett more time to tend his wounds. Nomi narrowed her eyes at the scabby-looking residue the vial had left. She extended her hand to his arm, silently imploring him to ease up a little.

"Let me take a look," she said. Fett's helmeted gaze turned toward her inquisitively. She rolled back his sleeve, exposing a pale, unguarded arm. Fett tentatively snatched his fingers back.

"It's okay," she said under her breath, "I have a little bit of medic training. Nothing fancy, but, hopefully it'll hold until we can get to the Slave 1."

Fett's hesitance dissolved when he grudgingly yielded to her suggestion. He unfolded his arm carefully toward her. She tried to treat the wound as thoroughly as possible, but she found it hard to concentrate when the bounty hunter was staring warily at everything she did.

When she finished, she knew it was just a patch-up job, but it was much better than the few drops of antiseptic ointment that Fett had applied himself. He gave his arm a quick glance over and rolled down the torn-back cuff of his sleeve.

"Should be good for now," Nomi said pleasantly, though Fett didn't thank her. What had she been expecting? Words of praise from a man who barely talked except to reprimand her in some other way? She was stupid for thinking she could impress him, but the thought still lingered at the back of her mind as Suhluk pulled his ship level with Slave 1.

Dengar was waiting at the controls when they entered, and Fett went to expunge him of his seat in order to wire transfer the funds to Suhluk's account. When he had completed his bank transaction, he sent a transmission to Suhluk's comlink frequency to inform him that their business was concluded. Suhluk sputtered away half as fast as he arrived.

"I thought for sure you were gone!" Dengar mused, looking from Nomi to Fett and back. The other bounty hunter simply began piloting the ship dead straight ahead.

"I'm not easy to kill," Fett remarked blandly. Nomi jabbed Dengar in the ribs, eliciting a sharp howl of resentment from the heavy bounty hunter.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"Getting a goon like Suhluk on the job!" Nomi said in frustration. "I thought for certain he'd abandoned us."

"Don't look at me. It's _him _who hired the guy," Dengar said, directing a thumb over his shoulder at Fett.

"Yes, but, Fett's too smart to let me bully him, so you're the next best thing."

Dengar's bristly eyebrows knotted together.

"Tell me again why we're not killing her?"

"Because she may yet have some value to us both," Fett said, staring straight ahead into the endless vista of stars and moons. Gazing into that black sky, all Nomi saw was possibilities…multiple ones… The fact that Fett had rescued her from the unpleasant fate that was sure to come of being Loboh's prisoner had given her hope that perhaps the company she kept wasn't all that bad…_even_ if they were two of the nastiest bounty hunters in the galaxy.


	14. Indecision

Slave 1's engines hummed with overactivity as the ship whizzed rapidly along through the stars. Inside, the ship's three passengers were all grouped around the control panel.

"So what now?" Nomi asked. She watched Fett's hands deftly work the dials and pull a small lever to the left of the navicomputer.

"We follow," he said, supplying a batch of exact coordinates to the ship's navicomputer to prepare the hyperdrive for another hyperspace jump. Nomi was intrigued at this; Fett himself had said that the engineers ejected the escape pods presumably with the datapads. But finding those engineers now was beyond the realm of possibilities.

"Wait a minute. Follow where?" Nomi asked, feeling out of the loop. Fett always seemed to be thinking two steps ahead of her, which made her feel more than incompetent in her choice of occupation. Perhaps she could learn a few things just by hanging around these two.

"Suhluk preempted the late Loboh's plans. He threw a tracking device on each of the ship's three escape pods."

Well, _that_ was news to her. When did Suhluk even have the time to orchestrate such a forward-thinking move? She wondered if he did it at Fett's suggestion. Only a creature as astute as Fett would have even thought to cover all his bases like that.

Nomi's fingers curled on the edge of Dengar's seat.

"So, what are we going to do, split up and go search for each of them ourselves?"

Fett beckoned her over to the computer terminal, pointing to a few numbers on the screen.

"The first pod was ejected precisely twenty minutes before the ship destructed. The second and third followed three and four minutes afterward, respectively. If you'll notice here, the second and third pods are both directed on the course of Tatooine, which leads me to believe that one of them holds the bounty hunter Var Mesha."

"He live there?" she queried.

"No, but he's a regular. He's usually staked out at Jabba's, stealing all my bounties!" Dengar loudly lamented. Fett's finger continued to skim over a few more items of data that showed up on the screen's face.

"If my calculations are correct, the third pod—plotted toward some unknown course in the Outer Rim worlds—may be heading for the Falleen homeworld with the stolen datapads."

The datapads had changed hands so many times in the past few days that it was difficult for Nomi to sit by and listen to Fett call them stolen—especially when his theft had won him possession of the information in the first place. He was as condescending a man as she had ever met…but that didn't do to diminish her fascination with him in any way. He was still as mysterious, dangerous and thrilling as the first day they had met.

"So, what are we going to do, plot a trajectory for Falleen and hope against hope that we beat him to the destination?" Nomi conjectured.

"Precisely."

"You're insane."

Dengar rolled his eyes as if this was the wrong thing to say, and looked sharply away.

"I prefer to think of it as optimistic," Fett said.

"Call it what you want, but whatever optimism you've got _isn't_ going to get us there any faster." She stomped her foot once for emphasis.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Fett explained. "Slave 1 is outfitted with every top-of-the-line technological advancement. If I push the engines to their maximum, I will make planetfall before he does."

"I hope you're right. There's no point going to Falleen empty-handed unless we just want to hand ourselves over to Xizor to be implicated in a scheme we didn't commit."

"How about just handing _you_ over?" Dengar asked, chortling. Nomi's eyes darted furtively toward him, seeking him out with a scowl.

"Just you wait. You'll get yours."

"Be quiet," Fett snapped, and for a moment it sounded as though there was real anger in his voice. Nomi was surprised by his sudden and uncharacteristic show of emotion, though she also knew he needed the peace and quiet to think—he couldn't function well without it, especially on long space flights when he usually had all the time he wanted to mull over different thoughts. His mind was a well-oiled machine, which worked only with the right amount of equipment. One of which was peace and quiet.

"We will be coming up on Falleen in twenty standard hours. I suggest you equip yourselves from the cache in back."

Nomi's head began to feel like it was taking flight. How long had it been since she last slept—with the exception of the short time she spent unconscious on Loboh's ship? She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, suppressing a yawn.

"I can't keep going like this, Fett. I'm exhausted!"

"Get some sleep," he suggested.

"Easy for you to say."

She wondered if the hunter hardly ever slept under that helmet of his—or if he was as alert and awake as he always seemed. He was still a man, she reminded herself.

"You take the bed. I'm sure it's more than comfortable."

Not when compared with what she was used to. Living with Gharon and even bounty hunting had afforded her a fair amount of credits to spend on 'meaningless expenses'—at least to Fett—such as a decent bed and living space.

She followed his suggestion, however, happy, for once, that they were on the same page about _something_.

She wasn't aware, however, of the aimless gaze that drifted over her from time to time—or the holocam that grazed her sleeping form to deliver a readout of the cargo bay straight to Fett's computer. He watched silently, once, as her image popped up on his screen. She was comfortably wrapped up in the pathetically tattered blanket, looking very peaceful. Even Dengar's gaze settled on her in admiration.

"She's something else," he huffed, "I didn't think when we'd been stealing her that she'd be this much trouble."

"Then you didn't think," Fett said flatly, flicking off the holocam so that he didn't have to look at her again.

Nomi woke up and stretched, feeling immensely refreshed by the short catnap she had taken. She couldn't be sure of the time or how long she had been asleep, but when she turned her head she saw Dengar scrubbing the metal decks of the ship. From the scowl that supplanted his normally staid features, she could tell he wasn't enjoying this menial labor stint. He was the epitome of job dissatisfaction.

She threw open the holding cell's door and walked out, hovering over him so that she dwarfed him. She put both hands on her hips.

"Having fun?"

Dengar was not accustomed to being the butt of jokes—especially not when delivered by her. He threw down the rag he had been using as a makeshift mop and cursed loudly in Basic.

"_Our pilot_ up there's making us work to earn our keep," he said with an aura of resentment. "I suggest you pick up a rag and start mopping."

"I _would_, but then I would officially be a crew member and not a prisoner. Sorry."

Nomi practically skipped to the small metal stairwell that led up to the cockpit, where Fett was busily overlooking the ship's trajectory.

"Need some company?" she asked in a small voice.

"No."

She seated herself beside him anyway, regardless of his protest…though it wasn't perhaps the smart thing to do. She liked the dangerous feeling she got from challenging one of Boba Fett's orders; it was almost an addictive high.

"Looks like you've given Dengar a fair bit of work back there," she said.

"And I could just as well do the same for you," Fett replied tacitly. She knew the reason he suddenly became very insistent upon making Dengar into a one-man cleaning crew was because the other bounty hunter was beginning to irritate him while he was working, so the job he had divvied out was nothing other than plain, old-fashioned busy work. Fortunately, Dengar couldn't see past this.

She laced both hands over her stomach, feeling the uneasy silence begin to prickle her skin like needles. Fett could be quiet for hours if needed, but she, on the other hand—she had to be constantly talking and asking questions to keep her comfort zone at normal. That's why playing companion to the taciturn Fett didn't completely suit her.

Her eyes grazed over the surface of his armor, which looked like it had been magically repaired. She supposed while she was sleeping he had just traded out the old pair for a new pair of Mandalorian armor. It was not as though that was the only existing armor in the galaxy from that long-forgotten age…though Fett wore it as though it were.

"How are your wounds?" she asked quietly. She didn't know how she had summoned the courage enough last time to touch him, bare skin upon bare skin—but the contact, her first _real_ contact with him, had only drawn her in deeper. She was fascinated and frightened by his celebrity, but seeing his raw, exposed skin had reminded her that he was just as human as she was. She wondered just how far that humanity extended…if he ever laughed, or cried, or even thought of her in any other way than just business.

"Healing," he said.

_And you have me to thank for it_, she thought bitterly, though she knew he would never admit it.

"You're just lucky you caught them when you did, before they had a chance to fester."

"Do you intend to keep on talking?" he asked.

Nomi was taken aback—she paused a moment to collect her thoughts.

"No…if that's what you want."

He nodded very insistently.

"Yes."

"Fine," Nomi said, tapping the armrests on her chair. She was growing impatient with the way Fett sidestepped every question she posed her, virtually ignoring her presence and opinion on this ship. "But answer me one thing first…"

Fett's gaze gravitated toward her, wondering what it could possibly be that she wanted answers to.

"Why am I here? I have nothing to tell you, no possible source of information to help you out on your bounty, yet you insist on keeping me captive like some prisoner."

"I took off your binders. Be grateful for that," Fett said, a threat apparent in his tone.

"And I might as well just have them on for all the good it's done me!"

"That can be arranged."

Nomi put her fist down on the control pad, forcing him to look at her.

"Look, Fett, let's be realistic. You and I both know I'm not here on some kind of romantic errand. I'm here because it suits your business needs. But _where_ I fit into those needs is what I'm wondering."

"You have many questions."

"And they demand many answers."

From beneath her concealing cloaks she had drawn a blaster on him, and held it there, trained thus. She aimed it directly at his heart with a smug smile of self-satisfaction. She hadn't thought that doing this would be _that_ easy. She doubted many other sentients could honestly boast of doing the same.

Boba Fett didn't flinch at her attitude, but if he'd been given to laughing, he would have.

"Congratulations. You've succeeded in doing what not many have. Not many people surprise me," Fett said, noting the direction of her blaster. "But I know you aren't going to pull the trigger. There is too much at stake here for you, and you know that."

_What?_ Nomi thought. _How could he possibly know that? I could take one aim and it would all be over, I would be back to my old life in no time…_

What life? A life spent eking out a meager living on sparse earnings from her bounty hunting past time?

For the first time, it was as though he saw her in completely different eyes—as almost an equal. Being able to pull a blaster on Boba Fett was not an easy feat, but it had earned her a mark or two of respect from the bounty hunter himself. He nodded toward her.

"Very well done. You've learned a thing or two in your time with me."

"I've learned a lot," Nomi said, "Least of all how to avoid being manipulated. I'm not putting down this blaster until you set me back on Tatooine."

Fett shrugged.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes," she said, more to convince herself than him of that fact. She was beginning to think this whole stunt was a bad idea after all…

"If that is what you want, then you leave me no choice but to acquiesce."

"That's right," she said, watching him plug in a few coordinates, wondering all along if this was just another game of his—to manipulate her, yet again, into doing what he wanted. It was so difficult to tell when he wore faceless and expressionless battle armor all the time.

She felt the ship heave and begin to wind back on itself, headed back the way they came. Dengar's voice trilled loudly from the cargo hold.

"What in the hell—?"

Fett readjusted the coordinates needed to send the ship back to Tatooine. After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, Nomi reassuringly holstered the blaster. She should have known the moment she did Fett would have had it out of her hands. He immediately canceled the computer's new request, saying,

"Try that again and you might not be around to find out my plans for you."

"You know, a little kindness wouldn't kill you," she told him.

"Kindness?" Fett asked, perplexed. She was, after all, the one who had just drawn a gun on him. It seemed like the most efficient way of getting things done around here, anyway.

"Yes, I mean, if we're working together."

Working together! She felt damn near schizophrenic in detailing just what it was she wanted from Fett—whether a speedy return to her current base of operations, or a much-needed note of kindness.

"I thought you wanted to return to Tatooine."

He had her there. She was at a loss for words, which was blatantly obvious to Fett.

"I did…"

"But your curiosity is stronger than your desire for home."

She hated how he could analyze her just by sitting there listening to her propositions—without even lifting a finger or turning a glance in her direction.

"Yes," she admitted feebly, "Yes, I guess it is."

"Then that is to my advantage," he said. "Falleen is not very far off from here. It would be ill-advised to go back now."

"Yet you were ready to turn back around to Tatooine a moment ago…"

"There's no sense in arguing at gunpoint," Fett said diplomatically. "And besides…I'd have made you see my point of view soon enough…"

She wondered what he meant by that comment, but didn't have time to ponder all its many implications as Dengar came trudging up the stairs, wiping his soot-stained hands off on his scummy armor.

"Well, highness, floors are polished as per requested."

"Then you can start again with the 'fresher," Fett droned. Dengar, looking immensely angry, took the ladder two at a time to go start a cleaning job on the 'fresher.

Nomi glanced sidelong at Fett's profile, taking in the sharp, angular curves of the helmet she now recognized as his face—as wholly a part of him as his real face would have been. His shoulders were strong and broad, boasting a number of nicks and blaster marks. But her eyes settled most notably on a pair of braided Wookiee scalps adorning his right shoulder.

"Where are those from?"

"Kashyyyk," he said, and she could sense some definite pride in the statement.

"You kill them yourself?"

"With my own hands."

The scalps were intricately braided and strung from his shoulder like a token or medal that the Imperial fleet doled out to their soldiers and commanding officers. But Boba Fett was neither of these. He was, as always, an independent operator.

"You must be proud," she said. His head turned in response to this, though he said nothing. He was probably wondering why she even bothered to make small talk with him.

"I mean…it's not easy to take on two Wookiees."

"Two clans," he corrected her.

"Two clans!" she exclaimed, not realizing the sound of her voice had startled Fett slightly.

"Wookiees are easy to kill, once you can understand their logic."

"Logic? I didn't know Wookiees had logic."

Fett nodded at this statement.

"All creatures have logic, on some level or other. The trick is in finding the best way to get inside their mind. Once you win in here—" His hand gently tapped the outer face of his helmet and aped the motion by tapping Nomi's temple, "Then you win."

Not exactly a confession she would have expected from Fett, but she took what he offered when it came. Just the feeling of his fingers brushing her temple seemed to have given her a little chill up her spine. Fett noticed the goosebumps on her arms and said,

"You're cold. There is a blanket in the holding cell."

"I'm intimately familiar with it," Nomi quipped, though Fett didn't laugh. Fett seemed tired to have spoken as much as he did. She suspected she wasn't going to get much more out of him when she stalked away toward the holding cell to wrap the blanket around her for warmth. The memory of Fett's touch was still affecting her in ways she couldn't explain. She didn't like it that he had so firm a hold on her emotions and on her body's responses. She had hoped he had thought nothing of her goosebumps other than she had caught a momentary chill…


	15. Tracking the Quarry

Within a few more standard hours, Slave 1 was veering precariously close to the planet's atmosphere, demanding clearance for a landing. As they were reeled into the planet's gravitational pull, Fett made the necessary preparations for a landing before establishing a connection with the operator on the other end of the line.

"And what might the great Boba Fett be doing way out in this sector?" the pleasant voice asked.

"Business," Fett responded.

"Just pray it doesn't put you in my path," the voice taunted on the other end, "I've a score to settle with you."

"Many do," Fett replied. "Get in line."

The operator, despite whatever quarrel he had with the bounty hunter, allowed them clearance for landing. Fett maneuvered the small ship onto a landing pad separate from the rest. He'd given specific instructions to the operator demanding a small amount of privacy. The landing pad was usually reserved for Falleen dignitaries and princes such as Xizor himself, but the operator willingly handed it over to Fett upon hearing the menacing voice on the other end of the comlink. Fett was a man who enjoyed his privacy, after all.

Nomi glimpsed the Falleen homeworld out of the viewport. Like its natives, the planet was a virtual repository for every kind of exotic flora and fauna she could possibly imagine. As the center of the planet's vastness was a city that housed the reptilian species' distinctly feudal society. Nomi had researched the info Fett gave her about Razurz shortly before arriving. While the upper echelons of the monarchy was rife with political intrigue—as exampled by Razurz's plot against Xizor—these rarely spilled into disputes or open warfare. Which was why this formerly unimportant mission threatened to upturn the very base roots of Falleen society, as well as the Black Sun syndicate.

Fett vacated his seat and climbed down the treads into the ship's inner reaches. When he returned moments later, he had shed his armor in favor of a loose-fitting cloak, much like the one that had disguised him in Naboo. He offered the same to Nomi.

"Put this on. We don't want to look obvious."

She did as he commanded, slipping into the cloak—grateful for the little extra fabric to sheath her skintight hunter's attire from the eyes of interested onlookers where they were headed.

He handed her a simple, but efficient, gun that looked halved when compared to his own EE-3 blaster rifle.

"You know how to use this?" he queried.

"I can handle myself," she said, slipping the gun into her slim belt.

"I noticed," Dengar said with a laugh.

She was beginning to appreciate the more toned look her muscles were taking on—from the extraordinary amount of strain she had put on them in the past few weeks. She was now very physically fit and had a good build for fighting. It was not beyond Fett's notice, either, as he had mentioned this once to her.

Once they finished donning their new disguises, Dengar was assigned the thankless task of guarding the ship. Though he had learned to accept his jobs without complaint, Nomi could tell from the way he fumed about the ship that he was not happy with Fett's allotting of duties. He would have wanted to be the one to accompany Fett on his excursion to the local cantina where the engineer was due to arrive, but instead, for inexplicable reasons, he had chosen Nomi.

"Stay here. Notify me if anyone comes," he told the other bounty hunter.

"Yeah, yeah," Dengar grumbled. "I got it."

Fett and Nomi strode purposefully out of the ship down the city streets, headed for the cantina…

News of Loboh's sudden demise had already reached the holonet.

They sat together in the cantina at a private table Fett had ordered for just him and her. From time to time a waitress bustled by to take their orders, but Fett had given her only one, and their drinks now sat, congealing, in front of them.

"Tell me again _why_ we're here?"

"Our friend is due in another few standard minutes," Fett said, noting the time on the wall chrono. "We need those datapads so I can bring them directly to Razurz and use them as leverage to exact a hefty price from him."

The engineer arrived on schedule, as Fett had predicted. He sat down at a table in back with a dangerous-looking Falleen—most likely a guard of Razurz's whom he had sent along on this errand, Fett had explained.

Her drink was untouched, as was Fett's. Nothing about the green mixture was appealing, and she had already learned her lesson about accepting strange Falleen drinks and the kind of effect it had on her senses.

"Why don't you just march right over there and get them?" Nomi asked.

Fett's gaze cased the place appraisingly.

"Too busy. We wait until he leaves, then we follow him."

"Whatever you say," she complained, pursing her lips.

"Indeed."

Her hunter's senses told her that the engineer had concluded his business and was beginning to walk back toward them. It was more than likely that he would recognize her as Loboh's onetime prisoner and open fire. Thinking quickly, she pulled Fett to her and kissed him full on the mouth. The kiss was hardly what she could call enjoyable. If it had not been for _his _lack of enjoyment, she might even rate it as pleasant—but, as it was, his lips were cold and unresponsive, as was the rest of him.

"Get a room," the cantina patron growled when she finally disentangled herself from him. She responded with a rude finger gesture that she hadn't been allowed to make while married to Gharon.

"Why did you do that?" he queried flatly.

"I didn't want to risk the possibility of him recognizing us. That's a lot harder to do if you're kissing me."

Putting up a front was just what she needed to stay sane at this moment, despite whatever Fett thought about her.

"Don't do it again," he growled, an unmistakable threat in that tone.

"Don't worry, I _won't_."

The hunter moved to his feet with an effortless grace that came of having to perfect his silent step on every mission. She followed suit a little more clumsily, watching a few tough-looking aliens scramble to get out of their way. Despite his lack of armor, Fett still commanded a good deal of respect from other sentients just for the sheer gall of walking in unarmed—or seemingly unarmed—to a seedy underworld cantina.

He momentarily brandished his Blastech rifle, which was belted at his side.

"It's time to end this," he said.

They followed the engineer out into a back alleyway of the main city, watching him trip along his merry way. Fett silently signaled to her to advance on him and flank him. It took them only a matter of minutes to overtake him, when Fett drew out his blaster and demanded the datapads.

"Datapads…wh…what datapads?" the frightened creature stuttered. Fett cocked back the hammer in response to the question.

"Let me try again," he said very clearly. "Give me the datapads."

The engineer rummaged through his coveralls to produced two very neatly packaged bundles. Fett ripped apart the cords and fasteners so that the fabric containing it floated to the ground. In his hands were both the items they had been searching for.

"Good move. Now run away," Fett commanded. And the engineer did just that. It was too stupid a creature to actually consider bartering with Fett over a sum for its quarry. It had probably heard the many legends of his ruthlessness and cunning in battle, and didn't wish to sample some of that for itself. Nomi couldn't really blame him; if _she_ had been in that position, she might well have run too.

"Let's go," Fett instructed, setting a brisk pace for her to follow. She had to struggle just to keep up with him.

Back on the ship, Fett was looking extraordinarily pleased with himself for the speedy recapture of the datapads. But before he could arrange for a private meeting with Razurz, who had returned to his homeworld soon after their ill-fated meeting in Naboo, Nomi put her hand on his gloved one, stopping him from making the necessary arrangements.

"Is there a reason you're doing that?" he asked.

"We have to talk."

His cloak had come partially unbound in transit, uncovering part of his face. For the first time she saw the solitary features staring back at her, his mouth hard-set and unimpressed. But what captivated her most were his eyes—cold and gray, bearing an aura of resentment within them. They were just the kind of eyes she'd expect from one such as Boba Fett. Eyes that reflected the same lack of humanity evident in his menacing t-shaped visor.

His hand slipped out from under her protective one, and she saw a definite slump in his shoulders as a result of his weariness at dealing with her many outbursts and requests every day of their journey together.

"Look, I know what I did back there was wrong, but I was just trying to play it safe. I just couldn't risk—"

"—Being discovered and likewise handed over to Razurz."

How could he read every emotion in her face, every thought in her head, without barely even knowing her? How had he trained himself to think like her and put himself in her place so well?

"Yes."

"So you put up a front."

"Yes."

His blaster rifle lay in repose, a hairbreadth away in case he needed a quick shot. Nomi knew he could catch it fast, if need be, and have incinerated her where she stood. But that didn't stop her from moving a little closer to the imposing form of the other hunter.

"I still don't know if you'll hand me over to Razurz yourself…"

"I might," he said, as though toying with the idea. Fett stepped forward slightly as if to bully her into backing down. "But I'm sure Xizor would pay twice what you're worth if I offered up all the details of this scheme to him."

"You're not so noble as all that," Nomi teased, "Are you?"

"No," Fett said. "I don't choose sides. I go where the money goes. And right now, it could turn into a bidding war if I present the evidence to both sides and allow them to battle it out. Whatever which way it goes, I'm sure it will be more than lucrative in the end."

She chuckled at this suggestion, though her laughter sounded hollow and cold, lacking its usual vivacity.

"But, you can also get yourself into severe trouble by refusing to turn over documented details of the plot against Xizor's life, if you bring it to his attention first…"

"Perhaps." Fett's icy glare turned instantly dangerous, and Nomi was again reminded that he didn't look so different with the helmet on. It was merely a mirror image of the man he was inside—cool, emotionless, calculated—in practically every way.

"But that is a risk I am willing to take."

"I've never known you to be a big risk-taker, Fett. I thought you analyzed every last detail of a situation before acting."

"Sometimes," he said.

Nomi realized that, during the length of their conversation, the space between them had closed so that Fett was only a head above her. His icy gray eyes bore down into hers, as though challenging her to pull a fast one on him. And that was exactly what she had in mind.

She reached up to kiss him once, fiercely, and then the kiss was over before it began. Surprise registered in Fett's otherwise vacant eyes at this sudden action. For once, he hadn't anticipated her.

She pressed her lips again to his. Slow and chaste at first, then much more insistent—a firm, warlike kiss that tottered her backward just a bit. The kiss was much the same as the first one they shared. Only, this time, his lips warmed to hers. He mimicked their subtle movements, silently demanding entry with his tongue, battling again for dominance.

She took hold of his shoulder with one hand to steady herself. His skin was warm and his muscles were taut under her fingers. Her hand slid over her back, feeling him tense under her fingers. She let him have his fill then pulled away when he became too much to handle.

"Do you want _more_?" he spat coldly.

"…No."

His steely gray eyes watched her with something like amusement, sensing her discomfort with the whole situation that she had instigated in the first place. He was clearly telling her that she didn't know what she was getting herself into…

…And he was right. Now she was in over her head.

Her sleep that night was broken with dreams of home, Gharon…and Fett. Several times she woke up in a panic, to find sweat beading her brow. The cockpit was pitch-black and vacated, indicating that the others on the ship were asleep…or somewhere else, attending other business. She sat up and began wiping the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her cloak.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she had somehow betrayed Gharon. He had appeared to her in her dream in whole, and she saw him as clear as day. The look he wore on her face was one enough to inform her that he was displeased with her actions, _and_ her speedy recovery from his loss…

Things had been different with Fett than with her husband, though she was ashamed to admit it. There had never been a man she had so badly wanted. He had the keen assurance and prowess of a man at least twice his age. Despite his own age—which she presumed could have been no more than a standard thirty-five human years—he was incredibly virile, and she found herself wanting him despite his taciturn manner, or his own professed lack of interest in her.

Nomi tried to shake the unhealthy thought from her mind. Focusing on Razurz's plot seemed like the most viable way to forget all about this little flirtation. And that's exactly what it was…a one-sided flirtation of sorts. She knew nothing good would come of it, so it would be better to stop now while she was ahead.

_Easier said than done_, she thought glumly.


	16. The Djeriju Headquarters

In the morning, Fett was back to his usual routine of being all business. Once Dengar had secured a quick breakfast for them to eat, Nomi took a dip in the 'fresher and prepared for their meeting with Razurz. Fett had arranged the specific time and place with the nobleman himself, but they had yet to see how the details would all pan out…

"We have little in the way of time to spare," he explained, "so we're taking a transport down into the city to a meeting room Razurz has designated for us."

Nomi watched him slide some more artillery into his belt's holsters, her gaze turning inquisitively into his visor.

"There may be a bit of a feud shaping up out here. It's best to prepare ourselves."

She nodded, aping the gesture to better equip herself for such a confrontation.

After they were all geared up, Fett did a quick once-over of the ship: from the weapons systems, both fixed- and turret-mounted, down to the laser-deflecting shield generator, to be sure that nothing was tampered with on their return. He would conduct a search just as easily—if not more thoroughly—when they got back from their meeting. Satisfied that the ship's vitals were functioning smoothly, Fett slipped on his cape and jetpack and kicked open the door with his hands full of a piece of camo netting.

The outcropping of rock surrounding the landing pad gave them what privacy they needed to safely disguise the Slave 1's presence. After Fett and Dengar draped camo netting over the ship's exterior, they briefly surveyed their work.

"You know, Razurz is probably going to be expecting whatever tricks you've planned for him, so I wouldn't try anything stupid," Nomi told him.

"Whatever the outcome, I'm going to turn a profit from this," Fett said resolutely.

They waited for an airtaxi to come and pick them up. As Nomi embarked, she noticed a ragtag band of funny-looking Aliens decking seat after seat on the bus's accommodations. She chose a seat by the window, far apart from Fett and Dengar, though that didn't prevent her eyes from drifting over to the reserved bounty hunter from time to time.

He seemed contemplative for much of the ride, offering only scant bits of conversation to Dengar. She wondered if he was ruminating on the kiss they had shared, perhaps—or if he had put it to the back of his mind simply to continue with their business like she had. Well, he certainly wasn't showing any signs that her impulsiveness had effected him in any way, if that was the case.

Putting business at the forefront of her mind seemed to be working for her. At least it kept all thoughts, no matter how overpowering, of Fett at bay.

When they exited the airtaxi, they were in front of an official-looking building that served as the headquarters for Razurz's ruling house. Nomi entered the palatial building with wonder adorning her features. Inside, the place was filled with every kind of luxury: an obnoxiously large wall chrono that loudly displayed the time figures and a fountain bubbling in front of a hologram of a Quarren, welcoming offworlders to what he termed the "Djeriju" experience. Djeriju, Dengar had fleetingly explained, was the surname of Razurz's clan. It was displayed everywhere—the clan emblem, the revolving doors, even the front desk.

Fett went up and gave a fake name to the receptionist, who promptly buzzed them up to Razurz's quarters, where the Falleen was presumably awaiting them. When they entered the room after inputting the security codes, Nomi saw a beautiful view of the downtown sector out the far window, which encompassed a good deal of the entire wall. In the seat beside the window sat Razurz.

He sat up and stalked over toward them.

"Ah, the great Boba Fett. To what do I owe this great pleasure?" the Falleen addressed him in a mocking tone of voice. He performed a slight bow as an overture. But when his sloe eyes narrowed, Nomi could see just a glint of maliciousness reflected in their depths. His gaze skimmed over her briefly, recognition registering on his placid face. He also noted the two datapads that Fett had blatantly harnessed on his ammo belt, giving him a brief but tantalizing glimpse of the results of his long search.

"Dispense with the pleasantries," Fett ordered him, immediately upon entering, "They won't get you anywhere."

"Of course. My business attitudes have instilled me with a newfound sense of hospitality. But I will speak very bluntly, if that is what you want. Why have you called this little meeting, Fett?"

"Call off your thugs."

"Most certainly," Razurz fairly hissed, "When you call off _yours_."

"I hardly consider a woman and an overweight bounty hunter thugs," Fett said flatly. Dengar tinged visibly with red at the insult.

"_Hey_!"

"Then they stay," Razurz ordered, "As do mine. Is this agreeable?"

Fett nodded once, though with great hesitation. Razurz slumped down into one of the plush couches lining the walls of the room, extending both arms across its spine.

"I must admit I find it somewhat amusing that you've come all this way for a piece of information."

"It's much more than that, Razurz."

"I know that. But don't think you can come in here and skin me on the price of these datapads. They _belong_ to me." He laughed slightly as he calmly poured himself a drink then began to sip its contents. "Xizor's always labeled you as the scourge of the galaxy. At least, on that, we agree."

Nomi thought it admirable that Fett didn't waver before the other creature.

"Don't even _think_ about shortchanging me. I've come too far to be cheated."

"That I don't doubt," Razurz replied soberly, "Though I'm loath to do business with you. What a stain on my reputation that will be!"

"Your reputation's already about to be dirt," Fett warned him, "So I wouldn't worry about it."

Razurz smiled.

"I _know_ it was you that night who attacked me in my room."

His hand indicated Nomi as a reminder of the tussle they'd endured a few days previously.

"I don't like it when my engagements are disturbed, Fett. And I _especially_ don't like it when you try to dupe me with a decoy..._even_ a pretty one."

Nomi, who had been silent up until now, flicked her shoulder-length ebony hair over one shoulder. She strode toward him purposefully, trying another tactic. Perhaps waxing charm would be just what they needed to evade any unpleasantness Razurz had planned for them—though there was no doubt in her mind that Fett was more than capable of handling it.

"You didn't seem to mind much at the moment."

She knew that saying this was a mistake, that putting herself in Razurz's proximity might force her to endure another assault on her senses, or worse. But this was also a civilized meeting, thus far, which would undoubtedly remain that way if both parties curbed their bloodlust long enough to conclude their peaceable business with one another.

"Miss Rhendel…that's your name is it?" Her silence confirmed what he wanted to know. "Yes, I thought so. Only when I met you, you called yourself Mistress L'ir. Funny how the cards change hands whenever Fett is involved…and how my datapads ended up so easily in your possession."

"Or not so funny when you consider the hell I had to go through to get it," she said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I heard Loboh had you in energy restraints."

"Yeah, well, I managed to escape during an electrical malfunction."

"Impressive."

"You'll find I'm full of surprises."

"So I see." His perfectly sculpted neck turned down just a bit, giving her a better view of his soft, pillowy lips and the tongue that lapped sensuously behind them. Dizziness engulfed her head for a brief moment as she caught a whiff of something delicious.

"One would almost think _you_ had planned the whole thing from the start…though I confess I have difficulty believing you capable of this extraordinary amount of guile."

She didn't either confirm or deny this fact; not that she'd had to. It was quite obvious there was nothing deceptive about her as she stood here before him, humbled like a supplicant.

"You talk to _me_, not her," Fett commanded. Razurz flipped around, exposing each rippling tendon in his taut-skinned back to Nomi. She was having a hard time tearing her eyes away.

"Touching, Fett," the Falleen said. "I would not have expected a capacity for tenderness from one such as you. Though I freely admit that I, too, was tempted by her. One would almost think you had feelings for her…Loboh even mentioned something of the sort to me…"

"And you believe everything your employer says?"

Razurz swung out his fist, making contact with a nearby priceless vase. The hapless piece teetered and fell, shattering in a million pieces across the floor.

"Let's get one thing straight. Loboh was working for me, _not_ the other way around."

"You seem very determined to convince me of that fact," Fett said. "I'll humor you this once."

"How good of you."

Fett propped his blaster comfortably up on one shoulder, adopting a more relaxed stance. He didn't appear to be threatened in any way by the other creature.

"There is a great deal of interest in these datapads," Fett said emotionlessly, keeping his cool about him, "Your reluctance to expose them to Xizor is…understandable. Though things could turn the other way if I suddenly decided to get him involved."

"You wouldn't," the Falleen said, raising his hand mid-air as though to signal for his thugs. But Fett prevented him from making any sudden movement by stepping into his path. Though the bounty hunter was a full two heads shorter than the Falleen, he didn't shrink at confrontation.

"Enough games, Razurz. I've given you an offer and I suggest you take it, otherwise I might be forced to get violent."

Razurz shook his head, his movements graceful, accenting his lean, lithe frame that seemed to glide whenever he walked.

"The bounty on Gharon Rhendel has been rescinded. It is no longer negotiable."

Using the butt end of a concealed vibro-ax he'd been wearing for extra security, Razurz swiped both the datapads from Fett in one fell swoop. He grabbed Nomi's arm and twisted it behind her back. She couldn't help but feel that somehow she had been here before…so much for her skills at anticipating her prey. When she returned to Tatooine, she just might need to relocate to a job more suited to her particular talents. Which, lately, just seemed to be mainly running and pretending she knew how to accurately shoot a blaster.

"Here is a deal for you, Fett, since you are a bartering man. I take both the datapads _and_ the woman, no pay."

Both his thugs flanked him on either side to protect their master.

"That is not going to happen," Fett said, leveling his blaster at the Falleen's chest. "You said yourself the deal was non-negotiable. It would be unwise of you to upset me. Loboh also stole from me, and now there aren't enough pieces of him to put together."

"Would it?" the Falleen said with a good-natured chuckle. "And what are you going to do about it, chuck another lamp at my head in the dark?"

"Or worse," Fett replied.

"As thrilling as that prospect is, I'm going to take my chances with you this once," Razurz said with a hefty sigh. "I've heard enough of your exploits to know that it takes a fiercely intelligent creature to come out on top with you."

"And this is what you consider yourself?"

"Enough with the smart remarks, Fett," Razurz said, spittle forming at the base of his lips.

Fett shifted positions to keep the weight off his one aching leg. He looked mildly bored with the whole situation. Razurz was acting as predictably as he hoped he would. He could savor a good challenge or two whenever a semi-intelligent sentient crossed his path who gave him a run for his money. But those kinds of encounters were few and far between.

"You win."

"What did you say?" the Falleen asked with incredulity.

"You heard me. I said '_you win_,'" Fett said, making it clear that he wasn't going to repeat himself a third time for the Falleen's benefit.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke. You clearly possess an intelligence superior to mine, which makes you the victor in this particular case. I cede to your demands," he said, removing himself from Razurz's path to the door. There was nothing to stop him from leaving now except his own uncertainty, fueled by Fett's lack of resistance. The Falleen wavered a little in his decision, still keeping a firm grip on Nomi's hand.

"I've never known you to back down from a fight, Fett. Why now?"

"I explained myself quite clearly," Fett rasped, "So I suggest you take it and go."

The opportunity presented itself when Razurz had his back turned to the hunter. With Razurz was sufficiently distracted, he seized the opportunity to put a cold hand on his shoulder, making his mode of escape impossible. Another swift kick to the thugs' knees from Dengar had disarmed and disabled any sort of sneak attack.

"Not so fast."

With one arm, Fett reached out for Razurz's cloak and yanked upward so that the statuesque Falleen dangled out of it. It didn't take much doing to level an uppercut at his jaw, causing him to veer unstably backwards. While most Falleens were athletic and fit for fighting, this particular one seemed severely out of shape and in no form for any kind of physical activity—probably due to his sedentary lifestyle and the luxury to which he was accustomed. This gave Fett just the angle that he needed.

He kicked full force into the creature's stomach, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him that barely constituted a grunt. He walked with a measured pace over to where the creature was bent double, then knelt in front of him to peer into his tear-flecked violet eyes. It was obvious the stinging pain was beginning to blear his senses. The Falleen was openly howling.

"I give you credit. What you lack in brains, you make up for in arrogance…and more than enough of it."

Fett reached down and swiped the datapads from Razurz's body-hugging cloak. He kept his helmeted face very close to Razurz's.

"I'll need these to take to Xizor. I was afraid you'd be disagreeable with your plans for payment, so I arranged for a meeting later in the day with him just in case."

"You didn't go to Xizor, I'll…"

"Too bad for you. I gave you your chance," Fett said, and motioned for backup.

Dengar, who had set his gun to stun, came and discharged the weapon in Razurz's neck, giving him a swift, white-hot volt of electricity to wring him dry of all his senses…at least for a good few hours. He repeated the gesture to knock out the remaining thugs. They wouldn't be waking anytime soon.

"You didn—" Nomi began.

"He sleeps. Though I don't know for how long. We need to get back to Slave 1."

Fett commed ahead to rev up the ship's engines in case they needed to make a speedy flight to the palace. It wasn't worth risking the chance that Razurz might find them again—though from his present state, Nomi highly doubted he would be much trouble to them.

They set a brisk pace for the ship, trying not to draw anymore attention to themselves than was necessary. Blending into a crowd was a lot harder to do in Falleen when most of the planet's occupants were its native species itself.

"Why didn't you just kill him?" Nomi asked, unzipping her vest to shrug it off as they sealed the ship's door for departure.

"That would be a stupid move. The clan wars would have escalated, only _I_ would have been their primary target."

"Not if Xizor thought Razurz was planning something against him. Wouldn't he have given you a medal of honor for dispatching with a potential threat to his crown?"

Fett punched in a few codes to power down the engines. For now, it seemed safe to say that they would not be needing to make a quick exit anytime soon.

"You don't have much experience with Falleens, do you?"

She felt a red hot blush creep into her cheeks.

"No."

"They hold grudges…for a real long time. Much like Trandoshans."

He adjusted his gloves a bit as Nomi processed that last statement.

"Like Bossk?"

He was partially intrigued by this statement.

"What do you know about Bossk?"

"Not much. Dengar told me once. He said you two had your…differences."

Fett leaned back into the pilot's chair.

"He blames me for the breakup of the Bounty Hunter's Guild, which is why I'm unwelcome in some circles. It doesn't matter. They're not the kind of people I run with."

"And who is?" Nomi queried, crossing her arms.

"No one," Fett answered flatly. His gaze held hers a little longer than was needed, to put emphasis on this last statement. Nomi wondered if it was said only to display a lack of interest in her…though she knew differently. She could sense it in him.

He turned away to intimate that he had finished speaking with her. Nomi felt angry that he dismissed her with about as much care as a slave or servant, especially given the moment they had shared previously. All that would change when she finally had a moment alone to speak with him, hopefully following their meeting with Xizor.


	17. Sabacc and the Brief Interlude

Nomi and Dengar sat down to the table for a hand of sabacc to pass the time. Their meeting with Xizor would take place in another hour, so they used what time they had to relax and keep the stress from overburdening them. For now, Dengar held all the cards. Nomi was just playing to lose, though.

"I _can't_ wait to get off this dejarik board of a planet."

Dengar grunted a reply.

"Sister, I've seen a lot worse places than here. It certainly stays in your mind."

"Thanks for the encouragement."

"Don't mention it." He tapped the board. "Another round. Hit me."

She divided the seventy-six card-chip deck into four suits of fifteen and they began a new hand. She had once heard a story that Han Solo had won his ship, the Millenium Falcon, in a lucky hand of sabacc. That same ship now graced the front lines of the rebel fleet in their quest to unravel the Empire. Luckily, she had no part in the events that were looking to be shaping up outside of Yavin.

…Instead, she was buzzing around the galaxy with two fearsome bounty hunters. Not a vast improvement, but slightly so.

"Damn," Dengar cursed, as he flipped over another card. Nomi was already up six to his pathetic two. He had quickly reclaimed control of the situation, however, with another few well-drawn cards.

"Ain't looking so good for you now, sister."

Sabacc was a game of chance and skill, and she was seriously starting to lose her luck. She supposed this was just another thing Dengar was going to hold over her. Trumping Dengar was not high on her list of priorities, but it would have certainly been an added bonus.

Two cards later, and he had declared the hand. He kept boasting of his perfect score of twenty-three, giving Nomi cause to think of new and interesting ways to shut him up…permanently.

"Looks like I'm the new winner around here," he declared.

"Well, isn't that a pleasant change," Nomi replied caustically.

Fett commanded Dengar to go round up some dinner for them. The other hunter swung a cloak over his battle armor, stepping out for a moment to find some food.

Nomi could tell Fett was glaring at her from under the t-shaped visor.

"Are you all right?"

"Whether or not I am is _irrelevant_," Fett said, turning his attention back to a small holovid screen in front of him.

"You've not spoken since…the other day," Nomi said, her voice pitifully small, even despite the metallic echo it had taken on.

"It's none of your concern."

She strode proudly in front of him, forcing him to look at her heat-flushed face.

"I _make_ it my concern. Unlike you."

"_My_ only concern is with completing our mission, and anything that impedes my attainment of that goal is simply an unwelcome distraction. It insults the flesh. Weakens me."

"And the kiss in the cantina?" Nomi asked. "How do you explain that?'

"It was something I deemed necessary to gain an end. You pointed out the fact that you might be recognized, so the plan you had devised to ward against this was sufficient enough for me. Though you hardly gave me choice enough about the matter."

"And what about later," Nomi pressed further, "…in the cargo hold?"

As telling as that was, Nomi suspected there was more—much more that he wasn't telling her. She lifted a hand to his shoulder.

"Why won't you look at me?" she asked.

His hands suddenly clamped down on her arms, pulling her a little closer, but still keeping her at bay.

"Nomi, I would well advise you to rid your head of whatever romantic notions it holds. Every odd I play is calculated. Every act…bound by my honor and word. Nothing I do is cheap, nothing frivolous…and nothing is easy, ever."

"So what was that…?" she continued. "The first move you made without thinking? Congratulations, Fett, welcome to the world of sentient beings."

His fists closed around her wrists.

"No, what I did spawned purely of acting on survival."

She knew that he was saying that to dissolve any detachment she held for him; detachments were a liability in the bounty hunting business. And she had more than become a vulnerability to him: she had seen his face. Not many had, and lived to tell about it.

Fett simply had too hard of a heart to break.

"We will speak of this later."

"When?" Nomi asked.

"When we aren't being pursued by Black Sun or otherwise being marked as a target for other bounty hunters."

"Yeah, well…

She cleared her throat loudly to get his attention.

"You know, I never got to…thank you."

He paused in the doorway, his Mandalorian armor flecked with silver specks of light that filtered in from above.

"For what?"

"Saving my life countless times."

"That isn't necessary," he said primly. But she merely wandered forward, wanting to feel what she felt before—the same fire that made her pulse quicken and her breath catch in her throat whenever she was around him.

"No, Fett, you misunderstand me. I _want_ to thank you."

She gave it the necessary amount of seductiveness, so there was no mistake about the invitation apparent in that tone. Fett seemed to keenly discern this, as he stood for several moments by the stairwell, just watching her.

She went up to him, letting her hands settle upon the helmet, wondering if he would peel away her fingers like overripe fruit-skins. But he allowed her to continue the caress for as long as she wanted, until her hands strayed underneath his chin to unlatch the strap that bound it into place.

"This isn't a good idea," he told her dangerously. She knew that, despite his protest, he must have wanted this as much as her, though he would rather die than admit such weakness.

She lifted up the helmet, resting it aside so she could better view his face. His eyes were, as ever, vast and hollow. He seemed to stare right through her at times. It was an unnerving feeling she had never quite gotten used to.

Suddenly, he had pinned her up against the wall, letting his mouth ravage hers repeatedly as though he were a starving man. She responded to the kiss, growing bold enough to venture further down the length of his neck, using her teeth to nip a little at the skin. She ran her hands through his mussed hair and groaned softly when his hand trailed down her leg and slowly up toward the apex of her thighs.

But his exploration was speedily halted when he noticed the amount of pleasure it was giving her. She knew he wanted to prolong her enjoyment of the moment for as much time as they had together. But those plans were brought to a roaring halt when she heard a bevy of voices congregating just outside of Slave 1's walls, threatening to burst the tiny bubble of privacy that they now enjoyed.

His hands came beneath her, lifting her up against the wall of the metal bulkhead. In all the times Nomi had dreamed of their first encounter, it had never played out quite like this. In her many wasted fantasies, Fett had played the part of chivalrous gentleman to her noble counterpart, soliciting her kindly for a chaste kiss or two behind closed doors.

…But she never expected this. She wasn't prepared for the swift and steady rhythm of his body, or her body's own rapid response as they moved in concert together. He was silent much of the time, until he had built nearly to a climax, at which point he let his enjoyment be known through a series of well-restrained grunts. His restraint was admirable. Nomi, on the other hand, was far less inclined to restrict herself from full enjoyment of this long-awaited moment.

He released her as swiftly as he had first caught her up in his arms, letting her disentangle her legs from around his waist and grab hold of the nearby bars for support. The encounter had left her somewhat dizzy with joy. Things were getting a bit breezy in the Slave 1 with only an oversized shirt to cover her. She recovered from her state of half-dress by donning a tight-fitting tunic and pants. Fett was beside her, busily strapping on the remains of his battle armor. She went and tried to help him to dress, though he only allowed her to gird his ammo belt around his lean waist—and then, she was thankful only for that much.

Dengar appeared soon after, and Nomi was grateful that his interruption hadn't come earlier—or he might have been quite surprised by what he found. She fluttered up the stairs to the cockpit, trying to suppress a blush from creeping into her cheeks and alerting the other bounty hunter to the mischief afoot.

"You get that food yet?" she asked, to which Dengar poured out the hastily procured contents of his leather knapsack onto a small pull-out dining table that folded conveniently into the wall.

"What's it look like, sister?"

"You know, Dengar, nothing can ruin my day, not even _you_," she said happily, sitting down to the meal. Dengar raised an eyebrow as he sat down to eat. She tried to prevent herself from looking at Fett while they ate, but the direction of her gaze was noted several times by the other hunter—and there was nothing further she could do to conceal it. Hopefully, he wasn't bright enough to put two and two together, which thus far, he wasn't.

"I have a plan to convince Xizor of the authenticity of the datapads. He will no doubt want proof," Fett announced over their meal. He sat stolidly by, watching both her and Dengar devour the bowl's contents hungrily. He didn't eat. She wondered why this was—she _never_ saw him eat. It was something he did privately and not very often, almost as though it were a waste of time or an unwelcome distraction.

"Have some," Nomi said, shoving a plate full of food toward him.

"No." His gaze settled on the holovid. "Xizor may think it is fabricated evidence."

"And point to _us_ as the culprits," Dengar chimed in.

"Precisely. I've dealt enough with him enough that he knows I'm not about to stir up trouble for him without just cause…but Xizor is a dictator. He is paranoid about holding onto his power." His head twisted in Nomi's direction. "Which is why _you_ are going to tell him it's authentic."

"Me?" She wondered if the past hour of her time had never occurred, from the way Fett was acting. Maybe he _had_ just been using her to soothe his own urges…but then, she had been using him right back, in a way. She was doing a lot of forgetting these days...about Gharon, herself. Fett had _become_ her universe.

"If we offer you as a piece of evidence, a key witness to the cantina's events, Xizor will take it into account that you've had something to do with this plot. Rhendel's widow…the thought may just tempt him enough."

"Then what?"

"You will, presumably, tell him what you know…which is nothing. He may then decide to use an IT-0 intelligence probe droid on you, though since you are innocent, any of the details you reveal to him about what you know are harmless. Just enough to convince him of their authenticity. You'll tell him, of course, of Razurz and Loboh's plot. Your meeting with Var Mesha. And Gharon's involvement. As well as your utter surprise at finding out that information."

Well, _there_ was no lie.

She thought of the sharp manipulators of the IT-0 droid, how they served as medical instruments in painfully extracting information from unwilling participants. She didn't want to even think about undergoing all that physical torture for some stupid Falleen she didn't care about.

"Why can't I just tell him everything right off the bat? I'd rather not undergo some psychopathic torture procedure."

Fett shook his head.

"We have to plant the thought in his head that you came with us unwillingly—"

"_I did_." The words were clear and crisp.

"—And that you were merely a victim of circumstance. If he knows you have traveled with us as a partner these past few weeks, he'll suspect we've had some undue influence over you and are instructing you to tell him exactly what he wants to hear."

_Partner_. There was a word she never thought she'd hear. But still, she found it incredibly ironic that Fett was theorizing on ways to make Xizor think they weren't grooming her to tell him a pre-made story, when in fact they were. And that influence that extended over her wasn't just professional—it was personal, too.

Nomi shoved aside her plate, standing to her feet to drive her point home.

"And why the hell am _I_ the one who has to do this again? You've used me as bait one too many times, Fett. I'm done with being your guinea pig. This ship has sailed!"

"Calm yourself. While Xizor knows I play fair, by all accounts, he might not trust us to tell him the truth. Bounty hunters use deception and a crude logic to get what it is they want."

"I'm a bounty hunter _too_!" she said desperately.

"But he doesn't know that. He may yet harbor his suspicions, which is why we bring you in as a third party. No harm will come to you if you play it straight with him. If he cannot sense any deception from you, then you'll be cleared immediately."

He played it as though he was coolly unaware of what had just happened between them. She watched his gloved hands clean off the table like a sterile medical cot. Only this time, she was the patient on which he was working.

"Fine," Nomi declared, "But you know the only reason I'm doing this?"

"That is..?"

"I know there's going to be a load of money in the end. And when Xizor pays you, I want a third of the cut. No questions asked. I did more than my share to get you what you wanted."

_In more ways than one._

He paused a moment.

"You're asking a lot of credits."

"I know. I feel I've _more_ than earned them."

He thought for a long moment before replying,

"Very well. Go get dressed. Make it quick."


	18. A Heart to Heart

Dengar was dreaming of Manaroo. They stood by his ship, _Punishing One_, on the mottled desert sands of Tatooine, awaiting the arrival of the transport that would take them far away from this…to their life together. Manaroo had her arms wrapped around his neck and the rest of the universe seemed to melt away in that exquisite moment.

He was beginning to forget what she looked like. The faint wisps of scent that carried the smell of her perfume on the air reawakened his memory. All of it came flooding back now, in a collision of senses. But the colors were different. Instead of the pale blue tint of her skin, he saw warm red and pinkish undertones. His semi-state of synesthesia heightened when she kissed him—from the jolting, jarring reds to the more subdued, sedated hues of contemplative greens or placated yellows when he was more freely able to process all of the feelings into coherent thoughts.

"You've been gone so long," the Aruzan beauty said. There was a definite edge to her voice—a harshness that had never been there before. She looked incredibly weary. Her eyes, similarly rough, seemed to gape at him as though searching for an answer.

"I'm here now."

His arms wrapped snugly around her, pulling her into the embrace. They melded together like one.

"I won't leave you. I promise."

He bent down and kissed her pale, blue-tinted skin.

And all he felt was a pain stemming from his side.

"Manaroo?"

But the sharp boot in his gut certainly wasn't Manaroo, nor was the perplexed-looking face that hovered over him, checking him for any signs of life. Dengar sat up and wiped the sleep out of his eyes. One incredibly brassed-off looking female was a very rude reality to awake to.

"Do you usually always sleep this long? I was calling your name for what seemed like _hours_," Nomi complained. Dengar rubbed his aching head.

"Haven't had much of a chance to with you on this ship," Dengar growled. "Boy, you really know how to irritate me, don't you?"

"Only when I know the right buttons to push," Nomi said.

"Trust me, you've pushed them all. More than once, actually."

Nomi sat down, retaining the perfect poise and posture she had cultivated while part of her regal training as a Ndeki noblewoman.

"Look, we're about to meet Xizor, but before we do, I want some answers."

"About what?"

His vision was beginning to clear. Instead of two Nomi's, he saw only one—which was a markedly vast improvement.

"Fett. He won't tell me anything."

"And this is a surprise to you because…?"

"Oh come on, you _know_ what I mean," Nomi said, seating herself closer to the profusely sweating man. He had never been so aware of his body's unsightly excretions as he did now. Even Nomi seemed to wrinkle her nose a little at the pungent smell that permeated the air. She scooted almost immediately away from him.

"Good luck sister," he said with a nervous laugh, "Fett's not the kind of guy who explains things. The most you could've hoped for is to see his face…and you have. Be lucky you're still alive."

She thought of adding to that mention of the kiss they had shared, but decided that omitting that detail was perhaps better overall. Not that he would have believed her anyway, if she had broached the subject.

"I don't think luck has anything to do with it."

"Now you're starting to sound like _him_," Dengar complained, wiping the grogginess from one eye. His thumb twirled in the direction of the cockpit.

She saw his t-shaped visor pivot ever so slightly in their direction, and dropped her voice to barely more than a whisper.

"Fett's had some grand plan in store for us all along, and he's still not telling us, even af—" She quickly thought the better of what she was about to say. "…I…just want to know what it is."

"Listen, sister, you know just about as much as I do. Fett's good at keeping secrets, in case you haven't noticed."

_Especially if they're a stain on his reputation. _She was good at keeping secrets too. Secrets that seemed almost too big to contain. The kind that would consume you alive if you didn't just _tell_ someone, anyone…

Looking at Dengar, she was convinced he wasn't confidante material. But being on a ship with three occupants didn't give her much room to be picky.

She was still aching as a result of Fett's lovemaking from the previous hour. She reflected on the moment that had lasted only minutes, but seemed like hours when put on continuous replay. His body had covered her like rapid fire, leaving no mistake in her mind that he was, and always would be, the dominant one. There was nothing shy or restrained about him. He was manipulating her even now from a far more insidious instrument—his mind.

"You okay?" Dengar noticed the faraway look in her eye. "I mean, you haven't hit me yet today, which is a pretty rare occurrence."

"Yes, just…a lot on my mind lately."

Dengar sat back, linking his heels together over the small table in front of them. He was seated comfortably on a chair that seemed to tremble under his weight. His face and body were partially covered by the white bandage-like wrappings that served as encasing body armor. He had his blaster gun in his hands, and began stripping the weapon to prepare for their march to Xizor's palace.

"Like?"

Nomi took a deep breath…and decided to go for it.

"Well, it's…" Her face wrinkled with the unexpected ease of the words that were to follow. "You know how you feel for Manaroo?"

He was busily strapping his weapon onto his shoulder, trying to take an interest in something other than the verbose female prattling on in front of him. His mind had enough with females and their irrational hormonal problems—just trying to _understand_ what they wanted half of the time was what confused him most.

"Yeah! 'Course." Then, with a meaningful pause, "Or at least I did before you woke me up."

"That's how I feel about Fett."

Dengar snorted as though she had just said something particularly funny.

"Haha—Fett, that's rich! What is that, some kind of joke?"

She shook her head softly, tousling her unbound hair so that it curled around her ears.

"…You've _got_ to be joking with me."

Dengar slapped his knee for effect, to try and get her to laugh with him in concert. But the serious look on her face informed him she wasn't joking. He gaped, slack-jawed, at her.

Realization dawned.

"You're _serious_."

"If this is as hard for you to digest as it is for me to admit, then say nothing more," Nomi said. "I didn't pick this…nor did I want this. If anything, I'd like to forget it altogether. But some part of me can't. It won't let me. And I…just had to get that off my chest. You know."

Dengar ran a hand over his face as though agonized at the concept of their coupling. _Well_. Nomi hadn't thought it was _that_ repulsive. They were, after all, two consenting individuals with a mutual interest in one another—or so she hoped.

Dengar let the comment roll off his back like water, barring the fact that he had been oblivious to it. He pretended like he had known all along, which was hardly true. If anything, every day was a struggle to keep up with the fiercely independent Fett and Nomi on this overlong joyride.

"Ah, well anyway, kind of figured something was up. I mean, he's quiet but…he's not usually _this_ quiet."

"Really?" she asked, curling her knees up under her body in an almost meditative stance.

"Yeah. He's a tough one to break. You must've really done a number on him."

"Not really. I…well, that is to say I…"

Dengar waved his hands at her to pass up the comment.

"Look, I _don't_ want to know what you guys did. Suffice it to say he's not the emotional type…or the type to become romantically entangled. Probably figured you were good for a roll or two."

She balled her hand into a fist that she used to lightly punch his forearm—which was already bruised because she had used him as a temporary punching bag to vent her frustrations on.

"There's my girl. I was waiting all afternoon for that punch," he taunted.

"There's plenty more where that came from!"

"Whoa, hold on! I was only kidding," he said as she curled another fist in his direction. "Don't get yourself in a twist over it."

She stroked a loose strand of hair out of her narrowed eyes, trying to ignore the humiliation that stemmed from being a target of Dengar's jokes.

His tone grew sober once again.

"Look, you can't change him. No one ever has. So there's no use trying. You're fooling no one, least of all yourself."

"I _know_ that. You think I don't?"

But that was not what she wanted to hear, especially from one who had traveled so frequently with Fett, knew all his idiosyncrasies, his modus operandi, and still managed to put all that aside in favor of a business partnership. What she _wanted_ for him to say was that Fett wasn't beyond redemption, and it was just within her reach if only she struggled a little harder for it.

_Lies_. More lies to assuage her fears of the lonely isolation she had come to loathe—to which Fett had been a partial cure. She remembered the loneliness she felt as a child growing up on Ndeki, how all her past seemed to melt away when Fett was near.

Despite his own emotional detachment and unavailability, Fett had freed her in more ways than one. She realized the previous twenty-two years of her life she had been living as a ghost. Though his motivations and alignments weren't always clear, she could strangely identify with him more than anyone else.

_A hunter knows its prey. I am the hunted._

"Well then, that should answer all your questions," Dengar said, chafing a hand through the weeklong stubble growing on his chin. "…About Fett."

"And an _enormous_ help you've been," Nomi said, angrily jumping to her feet.

"Don't blame _me_, sister, I'm only the messenger."

Roaming the ship's containment cells and cargo bay seemed the best way to diffuse her anger. She turned over her conversation with Dengar again and again in her mind, but always to the same useless end—Fett would _never_ change. He had always known this. And she had known this too when she let him in.

Perhaps, if she only talked to him, she could make him see her point of view…

But her self-indulgent reverie came to a screeching halt as Fett called for all hands on deck. She and Dengar immediately responded to the summons, congregating on the ship's upper level in front of the viewport where Fett was still seated, running things from his seat of operation.

"You are both ready, I presume?"

They nodded their assent, and Fett gingerly turned over Nomi's wrists to apply a pair of binders. She had almost forgotten that she was still their prisoner, despite whatever freedoms she now enjoyed. And she supposed being intimate with Fett was certainly one of those.

For now, things weren't looking so good. Fett had every intent of making her keep to the plan he had devised, though she couldn't see it turning out in anyway good…not that it mattered. If this whole ordeal with the bounty hunters wasn't soon over with, she might just go crazy from all the highs, lows and pitfalls of the last few weeks.

"Put on your game face," Dengar joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"This _is_ my game face," Fett acknowledged humorlessly. Then, swiveling his chair in Nomi's direction, "The plan is quite simple. We take an airbus to Xizor's palace, I hand you over to the prince and you submit to the mind probe procedure like we agreed."

The closer it grew to that moment, the more Nomi's performance anxiety swelled to a crescendo inside of her.

"How do you know he won't simply kill me on principle?"

"Because if he does, he'll have _me_ to deal with."

That comment didn't come across as being quite as assuring as he had intended, partially due to his flat delivery. But Nomi still trusted him, for whatever reason, to see this through to the end.


	19. Mind Probe and the Attack

Nomi lay on a bed under a sterile white energy lamp that diffused hot light onto her face. Xizor's crisp, standard issue uniform-clad attendants stood around her, administering a serum into her bloodstream. Her mind was dizzy with thought. This was the moment she had been waiting for since Fett had announced that she would be presented to Xizor as hard merchandise, yet she had not expected it to come so soon. She felt like a lab experiment sitting on the table, waiting for Xizor to poke and prod her with all manners of uncomfortable tools that were sure to elicit more than just a surprised reaction from her.

She could feel him probing her mind gently, examining it like the rotting carcass of a dead womp rat. Her mind was screaming for release from the torturous touch. And then blackness blurred at the edge of her vision.

"Whatever it is you're hiding will soon be revealed," Xizor said, his long, claw-like fingernails tickling her chin as though he was petting a felinx. He had a sickening smile plastered on his face.

She hoped he wouldn't delve too deep…that the procedure would be over in just minutes. Though even a poorly conducted mind probe could have debilitating long-term effects if done improperly.

"Don't…bet…on it," she rasped, her speech heavy due to the onset of paralysis. Xizor smiled calmly, his violet eyes turning several shades brighter. He resembled Razurz, though his regal stance indicated to her a higher status than the other Falleen.

"We shall see about that," he promised.

She tried to brace herself for the pain that was to come, though no amount of preparation could have helped. She said nothing further as darkness fringed the edges of her vision, and she succumbed to unconsciousness...But before she did, she thought back to the events leading up to this unpalatable moment…

Xizor's chamber was accented with just the right amount of finery. Though the purple drapery overshadowed almost all of the delicate details, the walls and ceiling were patterned in a pleasing enough color. The dim lights, bolstered by freestanding poles, threw a rainbow of colors along the floor.

Fett, Dengar and Nomi were conducted into the room by a pair of royal guards from the Black Sun crime syndicate. They had confiscated their heavy artillery and relieved them of all their comlinks, transceivers and other tech. In the top-secret headquarters, Xizor took every precaution when necessary. And letting in three armed bounty hunters to his place of operation wouldn't have been such a well thought-out move.

They took a seat around a small meeting table, ignoring the sneering guards. Prince Xizor sat upon his throne with both long, tapered hands curled around the armrests. His eyes settled on the bounty hunters in front of him as though he were meditating.

"Boba Fett. I wouldn't have expected you to be alive after all these years. You're a hard man to kill."

"Especially when you've been actively seeking my demise by sending a heavy squadron of your best fighters onto my tail," he replied just as sharply.

Xizor cast a glance around the room at the few Black Sun members who stood behind him, and let out a resounding chuckle. The sight of a bounty hunter without his weapons was an amusing one indeed. One that stripped him of all the potential fear he might have otherwise represented.

"An honest mistake, I can assure you. I was under the impression that you held information vital to my death, and that you were delivering it into the hands of Prince Razurz. Though my proof was minimal, I sent out my fighters. I never intended for them to shoot you down…only to overtake you and interrogate you as to the whereabouts of the leaked data."

"A passably good excuse. But not good enough to persuade me that you weren't acting in your own self-interest. Especially given that I have two important articles of information you may find interesting. Blasting me out of space would have been a preferable alternative to having to pay me for the pleasure of handing them over into your avaricious hands."

Nomi was surprised with how true all of this was sounding, especially to Xizor, who didn't seek to disguise how impressed he was with Fett's deduction. He recognized the same ambition in Fett that he craved as a politician and leader of Black Sun—an ambition that fueled Fett's lust for the hunt and Xizor's own similar lust for power. This admiration was reflected as he said,

"You never cease to amaze me, Boba Fett. Whether you are analyzing a situation or hunting your merchandise, you always manage to come out on top. But you are still wrong about a few things on which I shall correct you. To answer your question, yes, I was acting in my own self-interest. It was morally essential. There was a possible threat to my life, and I responded by seeking to crush it. There is nothing wrong with preserving oneself. If I were _truly_ looking out for my own self-interest, I would have killed _you_ a long time ago."

"You haven't succeeded yet," Fett said.

"I'm patient," Xizor said levelly. He pressed both of the tips of his fingers together in a contemplative manner, inclining his head so that his black topknot swung over his shoulder seductively.

"But, until then, I believe I have some business to conclude with you first. I've heard of these rumored datapads of yours," Xizor said. "But I needed proof before I convicted Prince Razurz of anything serious. It would have started an all-out war among the ruling houses had I not scoured the galaxy high and low for the supposed evidence. A war was the last thing I needed on my hands while I had the Empire and Darth Vader to contend with. It would have exhausted every resource I had available to me, and I simply couldn't afford the kinds of losses they were threatening. I needed proof."

"I thought all a politician needs is a bunch of blindly loyal lackeys to carry out his dirty work," Nomi spoke up from behind Fett, her hands numb from the energy restraints. Xizor's gaze shifted to her, making her think the better of it. "So, really, you're all set."

"And who is this one?" he asked, inclining his head toward the other bounty hunter.

"My hard merchandise," Fett said, segueing into an introduction. "Gharon Rhendel's widow. She accompanied him to the cantina when he was making his deal with a go-between named Bawd McKnives that night. McKnives stood in for Razurz to throw the informants off his tail and refute the possible belief that he was involved, in any way, in this scheme. Rhendel and Loboh were hired to enact Razurz's plans to dispatch with you shortly before this datapad was leaked…into the wrong hands, of course. Nomi here was its sole protector until it came into my possession. She's been difficult and uncooperative with regard to Razurz's plans for you."

That wasn't entirely true, though some of what he said pertained to her initial reluctance to hand over the evidence. That had all changed, however, when they began working together. Or at least, when _she_ began working with _them_.

"She won't talk," Fett continued, "Though I'm sure she can authenticate these datapads for you if you applied the correct amount of force. Unfortunately, the tools and weapons at my disposal were meager, or I would have conducted the procedure myself."

Nomi wondered how much of that was true and how much were lies designed to trick Xizor into believing he maintained neutrality throughout this whole ordeal.

"I'm surprised your methods didn't…_motivate_ her to abandon her restraint," Xizor said. "Of course, everyone's heard of the great Boba Fett reducing even the most arrogant of creatures to quivering wrecks."

She turned her face away, but Xizor grabbed it forcibly and guided it back toward him.

"Yet this woman is able to look upon you without fear. Why is that?"

"Perhaps you should ask her yourself," Fett said with a shrug of the shoulders. While Xizor was otherwise distracted, Fett gave her the signal—a small, almost imperceptible nod of the head that told her the charade was just beginning.

"So where is this supposed evidence now? I want to see for myself if what you're saying is true. And if not—well, you have Nomi here to tell me whether or not it's authentic."

"I'll tell you nothing!" she declared passionately.

"We will see about that," Xizor said calmly, his features completely placid as if he had no qualms about prying the information out of her. It was beginning to make Nomi a little nervous. Shouldn't he have at least winced a little at her declaration? Perhaps she needed to hone her acting skills.

"Where is your computer terminal?" Fett queried, sitting up to stretch his legs. Xizor motioned him over to a small data-processing module in the room's corner. Fett followed and uploaded the long lists of information.

Xizor's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he glanced over the hunter's shoulder at the long details of Razurz's plot.

"I should have expected this kind of deception from one so young and impulsive as Razurz. He is well-bred, but reckless at times, and too outspoken for my liking. _Still_…I will have to investigate a little further," he said, indicating Nomi with a jerk of the head. "If you'll let me prod her for information."

"Be my guest," Fett said, "She is yours. Do with her what you want."

He dragged her off toward the chamber, though not before Nomi sent a backward glance at Fett. Both he and Dengar were watching after her as she was helplessly dragged away to meet with whatever plans Xizor had in store with her. It would be the last time she would see them again for a while…if Xizor didn't kill her first.

Nomi felt the anger well within her as she was led away by the guards, the energy cuffs chewing at her already worn-raw wrists. So, Fett had handed her over quite easily when it suited his purposes. She had to remind herself that he had orchestrated the whole scene, so perhaps it was not a complete reflection of his character or his feelings for her. But it bothered her, all the same.

On the medical table, she closed her eyes and began falling into a dreamless sleep. Succumbing to the darkness made her feel much more calm and in control. All she heard was Xizor's modulated voice, droning,

"Good. Good."

It put her quickly to sleep.

When she woke up she was in a dank cell, imprisoned behind cold metal bars. Her head was woozy and preparing for liftoff. A myriad of armed mercenaries stood guarding the cell. The one in the forefront tapped the metal bars with the head of his vibro-ax as soon as he noticed her waking.

Nomi rubbed her head.

"Yeah—what is it? Back to torture me some more?"

"The Prince wants to see you in his audience chamber," the metallic-grated voice spit.

"You can tell his royal sliminess that I'm not one for obeying orders," she said.

In truth, it was fear that motivated her to defy Xizor's request. She felt the same feeling—the whittling away of her inner defenses—overcome her when she was around the man, like when she was around Razurz. Though it was much more subtle, only a faint whisper, she undoubtedly felt the stirrings inside of her. Fett had been right in warning her against the charms of Falleen males; their pheromones almost totally overpowered her.

"Come on," the mercenary said, reaching in an arm to fish her out of the cage. He conveyed her to the room where both Fett and Dengar were waiting impatiently. The Falleen prince turned around and smiled with sincerity.

"Miss Rhendel. Back to the land of the living, I see. I trust you are feeling well?"

"My head feels like a few Ewoks just had a party in there," she said, cinching the bridge of her nose. Xizor smiled pleasantly.

"An effect of the mind probe. Your senses will fully return in time, I can assure you."

"Great," Nomi said, truly angry. She was tired of playing Fett's little decoy once again, because it always somehow ended her up in a world of hurt. Now she was feeling it. Was he really worth the trouble?

Xizor looked to Fett.

"The results of the probe were as you predicted; I committed them to a recording. There wasn't much information I could find other than to corroborate the facts displayed within the datapads, and a few other…amusing items."

A twinkle was in his eye as he said,

"And Fett, I must say I was surprised to see how much _you_ pervade her thoughts. Almost alarmingly so."

Nomi colored beet red. She was grateful only a few of Xizor's men were there to witness it, or her humiliation would have been complete. It was bad enough that Fett had been there to hear it.

"That is irrelevant," Fett said, hand on his blaster pistol, which was still snug in its holster. "What is relevant, however, are the details that still need to be worked out."

Xizor looked as though the bounty hunter had just spoiled his fun. He sat down sourly. "Yes, yes, of course. Razurz is, by all accounts, guilty of masterminding this rather sloppily-conducted plan. He shall be taken into custody and tried for treason. But first, I need to know his whereabouts…if you haven't already killed him."

Fett tossed him a small tracking device.

"You shall find him in his quarters…stunned. Which should make him all the more easy to apprehend."

Xizor's hand curled about the device as he slipped it into one pocket.

"It's good to see you're so forward-thinking, Fett. You've been an enormous help to me. I think a generous 'thank you' is in order."

"Wire it to my bank account," the bounty hunter ordered.

"Of course," Xizor promised before dismissing them.

A standard hour later, they were seated in the Slave 1's cockpit, speeding away from the planet Falleen. Nomi could honestly say she hoped it was the last she'd ever see of the Force-forsaken planet. Riding all around the galaxy made her suddenly weary for home. And that's exactly where she intended to go once they put down back in Tatooine. A quaint, out-of-the-way planet like Ndeki was just where she needed to be to collect her thoughts and give her a heady dose of reality before returning to bounty hunting, if not some other lucrative occupation.

A sudden explosion and emission of fire into the black space beside them interrupted Nomi's conflicted thoughts.

"What was that?" she asked. "An asteroid?"

"A ship," Dengar corrected her. "Or what's left of it."

Fett's hands continually worked the dials, trying to avoid the collision in front of them. A few pieces of the exploded ship streaked past their line of view, bouncing off the hull with little effect.

"A slight disruption," Fett explained. "Mainly to Xizor, whose discovery that the ship he's been targeting was not Slave 1, but a decoy."

"You set up a decoy ship?"

"I come prepared," he said. "Xizor's tricks can be quite predictable. I knew he would try and exterminate us once we were off planet. I put the decoy into orbit around the planet shortly before landing, and activated the remote signal after liftoff. Xizor's instruments read the ship's call sign—which was disguised as my own—and opened fire."

Nomi wrinkled her nose, feeling the skin pinch across the bridge.

"B…but he thanked you. He even gave you money as a show of his good will!"

"A formality only," Fett explained it away. "The money would revert automatically to his account once I had been pronounced dead and my accounts voided. And, that way, everything would have turned out to Xizor's liking. He would have had the evidence and the bounty, as well as securing what he had always wanted…my death."

Fett continued, more quiet than before.

"Fortunately, I preempted him, and the money now belongs in my account…where it's staying."

"You mean, I…"

"No," he cut her off. "You still get your third of the money, as promised."

She swallowed. That was not what she had been expecting him to say. Perhaps he felt she earned it just for putting up with him.

"And me?" Dengar chimed in from the seat beside him. "What do _I_ get?"

"My gratitude for your assistance in this partnership."

"Very funny," Dengar growled, unappreciative of Fett's oddly-timed sense of humor.

Nomi wondered if the humming in the back of her head was due to the mind probe she had just suffered. But that thought was quickly put to rest as the humming grew louder, to an almost deafening roar. She covered both ears with her hands, looking around for its source.

"No time for small talk," Dengar interrupted, "There's two enemy fighters advancing on us!"

Fett's visor turned sharply to the viewport, where the two ships were materializing on what would have been the horizon line. Fett took the controls, throwing the Slave 1 into a drop-and-roll pattern to avoid a barrage of heavy firepower that threatened to shatter the ship's vital functions. He navigated his way through the star formations to deftly evade the two ships.

"They're coming in fast!" Dengar cried.

"Be quiet you fool," Fett snapped.

Despite the impressive flying, it wasn't enough to outrun the two ships, which were newer KDY models and twice as fast as Fett's Slave 1. Both of the ships drew level with Slave 1. Fett would need to travel longer and considerably further just to outrun them, which wasn't looking very feasible at the moment. The other two ships churned enough energy to get within the optimal range. Fett was aiming to put the ship between Slave 1 and the belt of asteroids that were fast coming up—some no larger than a grain of sand, though some topped the size of a huge Coruscant municipal building. The asteroids careened about, puncturing hundreds of tiny holes in the nearby ship as it hurtled around the atmosphere of Falleen.

"We're about to be boarded!" Dengar screamed as the ship, recovered from the asteroid attack, pulled up abreast of theirs to force entry. Nomi just barely got a hand on the guardrail as the whole ship shuddered with the impact of the semi-collision.

The entrance hatchway burst open with the force of a blaster shot. Nomi ducked under the seat to avoid being nicked, then her hand slid to the nearby weapons cache locked on the wall. She rummaged through it to grab up a mean-looking vibro-ax. Gripping it comfortably in both hands, Nomi stood next to the bounty hunter while Dengar manned the controls.

There was no time to think before the men entered the compartment, blasters equipped and letting off a round of rapid fire. Nomi ducked and clutched the vibro-ax in her hands.

"Let me have this one," she asked. Fett granted her the request with an imperceptible nod of the head. She went and stood in the middle of the advancing fighters, who wore three standard-issue uniforms marked with the Black Sun insignia. They had all drawn their weapons and were prepared for her attack. This was her one chance to prove to Fett that she wasn't as ineffectual that she had seemed. There had been a reason she'd become a bounty hunter, after all.

The first swipe of the light vibro-ax merely glanced off the man's chest armor. She doubled back and aimed for his head. When the blade made contact, it cut through his skull, toppling him from his feet to the ground like a lifeless rag doll. She turned to the remaining three and beckoned them forward to begin the attack.

Their reflexes were quick, but not quick enough.

She twirled the vibro-ax around in her hands, hacking and slashing away at the alien flesh. After a few moments of this, the one remaining Falleen shied away. His comrades were slowly being decimated around him. Nomi's handiwork was, for once, impressive and deadly-accurate. The Falleen paused, trying to sense her. The only feeling she projected was rage. A rage which she easily channeled into her need to kill, to take back some small control in her life.

_This is the end for you._

She lifted up the vibro-ax, but before bringing it down, the Falleen got in a shot that seared the flesh on her arm. Nomi faltered a little, not yet absorbing the impact of the blow, before splitting his skull clean off his head.

Fett was nearby, dealing with an enemy of his own. After he dispatched with him with similar ease, his gaze turned to her. She saw his head nod slowly, deliberately, indicative of his deep appreciation. She knew, in that moment, that he had recognized her as another hunter—and not just merely as a woman with whom he had had relations.

It seemed like hours in which they stared at each other, a newfound admiration burgeoning between them.

Dengar's voice was calling her back to reality.

"We're clear of the zone! Time to blast off to Tatooine!" he exclaimed.

Fett padded his way up to the pilot's seat, sinking in to take the reigns of control.

"And not a moment too soon," he added.

Nomi's arm began tingling with the impact of her forgotten wound. She winced a little and tried to plug it with some kind of bacta dressing. Dengar helped her wrap it quickly before returning to his co-piloting duties.

If there was one thing she was looking forward to, it would be returning to Tatooine.


	20. The End of the Journey

**A/N: Alas, the journey must come to an end. Thank you very much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. Your suggestions have been extremely helpful and so has your support! **

The spaceport was busy with offworlders as Fett put down in Mos Eisley, cutting the ship's throttle. As the dust cleared from the viewport, Nomi was somewhat relieved to see the busy throng of merchants and tourists canvassing the area in front of her. Mos Eisley was a little more run-down than what she was used to in Bestine, but it couldn't be worse than the hive of depravity that was Jabba's…

"We need to get you to a medical facility," Fett informed her as she climbed out of her chair. The job on her arm had held for the flight, but now it looked like it was on the verges of festering.

"Sage advice," she said angrily. Her mood was beginning to blacken now that they were actually back in Tatooine. While she had been praying all along for a speedy return to the planet, now she was here it changed things. She didn't want to part so quickly with the temporary alliance she had formed. That was part of why she reacted so violently to his suggestion.

"You'd prefer something else?" Fett asked. "Let that wound go untended and you just might have one arm less to worry about."

"Well, since you put it _that_ way…" Nomi replied sarcastically. She moved out of the cockpit down the treads outside of the ship, followed by both of the bounty hunters. They walked quietly together, their silence punctuated occasionally by the scream of a merchant soliciting them to buy some or another cheap ware.

The medical facility was packed with individuals who all looked in bad shape; most were the results of bar-brawls, or fights that had spilled out into the remoter alleyways of the city. One Niktu looked like he had taken a tumble into a brick wall—his nose was split down the middle and his otherwise ugly face was made even more so by the absence of it. Nomi shivered and shouldered her way into the tiny waiting room before requesting assistance.

A woman called her name, leading her and the two other hunters into a private room over which she drew a curtain. The nurse asked her to change into a dressing gown and sit down in the bed to await the medic's arrival. Nomi moved behind the thin curtain that separated her from the other hunters, tugging off her soot-stained shirt and pants before folding them into a neat pile on the nightstand. Was it really necessary to shed all her duds just for one measly wound that wasn't even on her lower extremities? She sincerely hoped Fett and Dengar weren't enjoying the view through the very thin curtain. It couldn't have been that pretty either: she sported a variety of mean-looking bumps and bruises from the many tussles they'd gotten into over her husband's dirty deal. She looked like a real shipwreck.

She parted the gossamer curtain with the back of her hand, slipping back into the room. Though she couldn't be sure, she thought Fett's eyes might have been having a look at her slender body from under the helmet.

"Doc here yet?" she queried.

"No. I would advise you lay down before he comes. He won't examine you while standing."

She lay down into the bed as commanded and was immediately tended to by a grim-looking medic, who hooked her up to a pair of machines that read her vitals. Fett watched the monitor with interest. Her heartbeat was unnaturally quick.

The doctor gave her a few painful shots of a serum before handing her a bottle of the mixture along with instructions to take a dosage a day under supervision. Supervision—where would she find _that_ in Jabba's palace? There were likely as many people there who wanted her dead as they did Boba Fett. She was not well liked, being that she was a favorite of Jabba's. That alone was reason enough for people to hate her.

Nomi's hand clutched the vial of serum. She slipped back into her clothes before reemerging in front of the two bounty hunters.

"Better?" Fett asked.

"Immensely."

"Good."

"Now what?" Dengar blurted. "I mean—there's a few details left to deal with, Fett. You made me an offer when you took me on as your partner."

"So I did," Fett replied.

"I expect to be paid in full!" Dengar said, pointing a finger in his face.

"Don't worry. I always fulfill my end of the bargain."

Always the same Boba Fett. All business, laconic and deadly. How could she possibly have expected him to change much after their brief tryst? But she was still growing as angry with the whole cryptic routine as Dengar was.

The walk to the cantina was uneventful. As they entered, all activity ceased. The sight of the fearsome Fett walking through the doors gave enough cause for a few of the creatures to worry—specifically the ones who had a bounty on their head who were trying to hide out someplace safe.

"Go about your business," Fett said with one blaster drawn. Gradually, all activity in the cantina resumed.

They took a table in the far back of the cantina so as not to draw anymore attention to themselves. Fett tapped out a few numbers on his wrist communicator to wire transfer an amount to each of the accounts that Nomi and Dengar provided for him. Nomi was honestly surprised that he held to his end of the bargain given the deception and trickery Fett often employed to get him where he needed. She double-checked a holonet terminal to make sure the funds had transferred over. Fett said it might take up to twenty-four standard hours, and she believed him.

Dengar slid his chair out and teetered away, already half-drunk on one of the bar's Jumas.

"Well, Fett, I'd like to say it's been an honor and a pleasure, but that'd be a lie," he said, "So instead I'll only say 'see you around soon.'"

"Perhaps sooner than you'd like," Fett murmured after Dengar departed. Nomi watched the bounty hunter, her curiosity picqued.

"There is nothing keeping you here. You have your money."

There was a definite dismissal in that statement. Angry, Nomi stormed away out the cantina's exit…and saw an incredibly moving scene.

Dengar hadn't gotten far. He had drunkenly lugged himself along before landing at the feet of some Alien woman over ten paces away. She put herself in his path and bent down to scoop him up. She was incredibly strong for a woman. It would have taken most of Nomi's strength to even try and budge Dengar once he was lying down, but this woman moved him almost effortlessly—as though he weighed barely more than a feather.

"You lunk!" she said. She was taller than a human, and more stunning. Even from this distance, Nomi could clearly see the blue-green tint of her eyes as they danced with disapproval.

"I send you a message to meet me and you get _drunk_?"

His arms immediately wrapped around her. He buried his face in her hair affectionately.

"Is it really you?" he said, his pronunciation sloppy. She put both hands on her hips, her chin thrust high into the air.

"Of course it's really me! Who'd you expect, the Emperor?"

Over Dengar's shoulder he cast a glance at a ship that could only have been _Punishing One_. This woman, Manaroo no doubt, had on pilot's gear and a pair of hide boots. The old engine's motors sputtered a little at the effort of churning too much energy. The heat from the motors was coming off in waves, making Dengar sweat even more.

"Did you get the money?"

Dengar patted his gut, looking pleased with himself.

"It's all in the account. All of it."

Manaroo's prettily scrunched up face relaxed a little when she heard this news.

"Good! I was beginning to think I'd have to challenge Boba Fett for it myself if you didn't come out of that cantina any sooner. He's notorious for cheating others out of their hard-earned living. I couldn't let that happen to you…"

"And believe me, I've _more_ than earned it," Dengar said.

"I'm sure you have, my love." She threw one arm over his shoulders, drawing him to her for a kiss. "Just think—now we've got enough capital we can save to fund our new life together. Away from all this…"

"Nothing sounds better."

Dengar pulled her in for a kiss, his stubble scraping her perfect cheeks. Nomi watched with a sense of resentment as they disappeared into the old ship and queued up for liftoff. As Dengar and his betrothed zoomed away into a horizon eclipsed by Tatooine's twin suns, she couldn't help but feel jealous. They had both walked away in tact from this, with everything they wanted. But she, on the other hand, had lost her husband, her dignity…and now Fett.

_Two Weeks Later._

Jabba's Palace was busier than when she had left it. Through some sheer effort of will, the crime lord had managed to expand his clientele to a staggering amount of weird-looking aliens, all of whom hung out in the palace's main chamber listening to the Max Rebo band play tunes from their latest album. Nomi was seated there, too, taking in the performance. It took her mind off all the things that needed to be done.

On her arrival, she'd had to mend relations with the one unhappy client she left shortly before being abducted by Fett and Dengar. It would take a while to repair the tear it left in her reputation, but for now things seemed to be looking all right. She'd received a steady stream of clients on various odd jobs—nothing big—but enough to keep her head above water.

Nomi crossed her legs as Sy Snootles warbled her rendition of "Lapti Nek" to the chorus of applause from the palace's denizens. She was bored with the performance, but tried to act engaged so as not to offend Jabba.

But this act was put on hold as the tiny device on her wrist beeped to signal an incoming message. She glanced down at it—the frequency was sending word ahead to request a secret rendezvous. She didn't need to ask whom the message was from. It was obvious enough. It specifically requested that she come alone, and that she bring minimal artillery. Excusing herself from the Hutt's presence, she set out for the coordinates the message detailed, hoping to find what she thought was going to be a happy reunion…

She walked through the sands until she came to the place overlooking the Dune Sea from which she could see many miles past Jabba's Palace into the ever-reaching expanses of desert, populated by lowly creatures like worrts and banthas. On this day, the entire desert was clear, except for one lone figure in the distance. As he came into her view she was relieved, but not surprised, to see the bounty hunter standing there. Beside him she could smell the exhaust fumes from the speederbike he had parked nearby as his transport.

Her free hand clutched the satchel that was slung over her shoulder like a pack. Hardly anyone noticed as they stood there; probably because Fett would have spaced them if they'd even bothered to stop and look.

"Why'd you send for me, Fett?"

He buried the butt of his blaster in the sand and leaned on it like a crutch.

"We still have some unfinished business to conclude."

"That we do," she said, though he didn't understand the meaning of this reply. "Like, for one, _you_. After we…well…you acted like I didn't exist."

"How would you prefer me to act?"

"With some measure of kindness, for Force's sake!" Nomi exclaimed. Fett's head pivoted curiously in her direction.

"You are angry," he observed.

"I have every right to be." She took a deep breath and continued. "I…guess I just need time to recover…from Gharon's loss."

"Understandable. Your reaction is within the normal range of human emotions."

She hated how he sought to remove himself from her by putting an emotional barrier between them. It was alienating, to say the least. Connecting with him in this moment was exactly what she wanted, and he was making it excruciatingly difficult. His whole life was dedicated to the hunt, and he was so wholly devoted to that concept that it caused him to shun all other life forms. But what had he been looking for when he let her in? A moment's pleasure, or an escape from an endless charade of being seemingly devoid of all human emotion?

"A reaction that comprises, among other things, regret."

"Regret?" he simply asked.

She nodded her head slowly.

"Yes. Regret stemming from a misspent opportunity."

Without saying anything, he slid his gloved hand toward her, his fingers curling momentarily over hers as though they couldn't quite get comfortable. Then, he retracted his hand. The movement had been mechanical—as if he knew this was the proper thing that lovers did, but still was unaccustomed to it. Fett wasn't the demonstrative type, either, so Nomi wasn't particularly resistant toward his sudden retraction. If anything, she was simply surprised he had attempted something so bold.

"But that is not what I called to talk to you about," he said, "It is important and it requires your full attention."

Nomi's lip curled over into a sneer.

"Talk fast. I haven't got all day."

"Patience." He held up a hand to illustrate the point. "This has to do with Razurz and your husband."

"What about Razurz?" Nomi queried. "Prince Xizor's already taken him into custody and is dealing with him as he sees fit. He no longer concerns us."

"That is where you are wrong again. In my further examination of the datapads, which I have downloaded to my computer's main terminal, I discovered an article of information you might find interesting. It seems that your husband, Gharon Rhendel, was involved only minutely in the scheme."

"But we already established that he was employed, along with Var Mesha, to assassinate Xizor. He even had an agreement with Juri Loboh at one point, until it went sour."

"Loboh would have said anything to us at the time…but I had to be sure before completely negating his little declaration that what I suspected was true. Gharon was set up. The job he believed he was getting was an innocent one—though perhaps just as deadly when viewed in the eyes of the Empire. He was running spice, according to the numerous documents I searched about him…not murdering high officials."

"So Loboh's story was bogus—_all_ of it?" Nomi's one eyebrow arched high over her forehead.

"As long as he had someone who would take the fall for his actions, Razurz was safe from Xizor. Or so he thought. The go-between that Razurz used reportedly informed Gharon that the information in the datapad he was receiving was for another spice-running job. Gharon had no idea of his involvement with Razurz because McKnives approached him as a business coordinator, of sorts. He promised him the job would make him fabulously wealthy in addition to his Ndeki prestige. Unfortunately, as planned, Gharon never lived to discover the importance of the information he was carrying. He was Razurz's lab experiment—plain and simple—used to convey the datapad covertly from one pair of hands to another. When Gharon arrived at the rendezvous point detailed in the datapad, with his cargo in tow, he would be in for a surprise. But what Razurz failed to mention to Juri Loboh was that Gharon was involved. In their previous meetings, Rhendel and McKnives discussed the details of the job. Loboh had informants watching the place, reporting back to him all the news of their deal. Leave it to Loboh to use his paranoia as an excuse to kill. He must have thought of Gharon as competition for the enormous amount of wealth that Razurz was promising in exchange for this job. Unfortunately, Gharon was killed by Zed Recner—Loboh's hired thug—for possession of the datapad. Imagine Loboh's embarrassment when he discovered that Gharon had been employed by Prince Razurz himself? So, he devised a story—a simple one—to clear himself of all blame. By making Gharon involved, and painting _himself_ as the noble one, it justified his tactless actions. Razurz was less than thrilled with his swift dispatching of Rhendel, however, which would explain the lack of sympathy when informed of his death. Is this all sounding familiar?"

Nomi nodded, her throat closing over a little. The contempt she had easily poured on Gharon for initiating this whole mess was fast fading, and in its place, she saw the stern but loving man who had always watched out for her, held her as they slept at night and promised her the world. Fett would never do any of those things. That didn't matter to her.

Fett's hand reached into the pouch belted around his waist, retrieving a small copy of the stored information.

"Here, look at it for yourself, and you'll see what I say is true."

"Thanks." Her hand clutched the datapad before pocketing it. All this was a little much to wrap her mind around. She hardly knew what to believe anymore.

"So…you traveled all this way just to tell me that?"

Fett holstered his blaster gun and began walking back to where his speeder bike was parked.

"I was running a job for Jabba, and you were there. It seemed fitting enough to inform you."

"Thank you," she said, still trying to digest the enormous amount of information he had just fed her. She had been so willing to believe Gharon guilty of this deception that she now felt a little ashamed that the blame had been misdirected. How could she have denounced a man she'd lived with for over four years?

"What will you do?" Fett's voice asked, drawing her from her reverie.

Nomi rolled her shoulders.

"Business is good, but I was never good at business. I'll go to the Rebellion or something, I suppose. You and I both know I'm not much of a hunter."

"Your skills onboard my ship would suggest otherwise," he said, the admiration notable in his voice. She had almost forgotten how, in that moment, his view of her had changed.

"Yeah, but…the Rebels…they're really offering a cause. I need something to fight for. Right now I'm just—_empty_."

"The Rebels," Fett said disapprovingly. "Rebels and Jedi are pacifists. You would do better to stay out of the conflict instead of throwing your life away for some worthless ideal."

Nomi wrinkled her nose.

"And the Imperials?"

"The Empire is just as bad, if not worse. As is the Sith. Their every action is fueled by unbridled emotion. A lack of control colors everything that they do, though they claim to have mastery over their emotions. I've yet to meet an Imperial or a Sith that can impress me."

_A wild boast…_

"I guess that's why you've aligned yourself with neither side, then. You always manage to keep yours in check," Nomi said.

"You could say it is part of the reason," Fett said with a nod.

But the Rebellion, after discussing it with him, was holding less of an allure as it formerly did. Not that she'd been truly considering joining the movement. She had merely spoken the words to elicit some kind of a reaction from him—though it hadn't had the desired effect.

She was seized with a sudden desire to follow him along on his next journey. Perhaps it was an impulse born of the moment, but Nomi didn't give it much thought before asking,

"Take me with you. To wherever you're going."

He met her gaze head-on. Obviously he wasn't buying the whole thing.

"In what capacity?" he queried, his voice calm and flat.

"I don't mind if you take me as your partner…or mistress."

The offer was intriguing to the hunter.

"You'll only get in the way. But if you must, come on…if that is what you want."

Though he could have worded it a little more kindly, she found it oddly reassuring.

"I won't be any trouble at all. I promise."

Perhaps he was thrilled by her impetuous unconventionality, or the fact that she insisted on tagging along wherever they went like a precocious child. She wondered if he was simply toying with the idea of letting her follow him around—if he thrived off her pain as much as she did his intimacy.

"Come on," he said, climbing onto the speederbike. Nomi followed suit, wrapping her arms around his lean waist as the bike bucked and then sped off across the desert sands. It was a short ride to the landing pad, and too loud for conversation.

"You are sure this is what you want?" he asked her one final time.

"Yes. Positive."

"Then follow me."

She followed him to where Slave 1 was docked, and prepared for their next mission's briefing. Her mind was abuzz with thoughts of the future…A future that still held some promise, however dull it might have seemed at that moment. She didn't know where they were headed and she didn't care, either. All that mattered was she was here now.


End file.
